By Tayyaba Haroon
Uneasiness forces me to bed,
Pillow’s soaked beneath my head,
The buzzing sound, a gigantic roar,
Of the symptoms of a relentless war.
Confusion’s grip is everywhere,
And dizziness fills in the air,
Feels like a land barren and dry,
Under a high, dark, moonless sky.
In search of a ray, serene and bright,
I marched onward through the night,
Clasping tightly the fragments of me,
Defining the purpose of life, I see.
Tayyaba Haroon is a writer, in search of Truth.
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