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in my room on a Sunday morning at 6:40 a.m.

  • Writer: Dia Mehta
    Dia Mehta
  • May 20, 2023
  • 2 min read

Updated: Jun 30, 2023



I woke up before the birds today.

Actually, I am not so sure,

because the window to the outside world

has a building building,

and I hardly know

when the birds sing their wake-up call.

I am awake, again,

with so much to do,

but, feeling purposeless still.


I lay on my back,

tired, like I have done ten days work in one

with an overflowing to-do list.

My eyes whisper signs of sleep,

but my mind runs along parallels

of so many different timelines

of stories I witnessed and I create.


I stare up at the ceiling

and it reminds of my childhood innocence

of fake stargazing with glow-in-the-dark stickers

stuck right above my head in my bedroom

so I can dream about the good and better things in life.

They were the last thing I saw

before I rest my eyes and body for hours together,

and I would imagine it like

I am sitting under the dark blue sky

with stars twinkling

as if they are shining for me.


The fan’s noise was silent till now,

but I can hear the blades cutting through the air

as it screams cries for escape.

But, gets caught

in this never-ending loop of

hurting and getting hurt.


On one wall of my room

I see through the minimal light

the emptiness I attempted to fill

with memories I recall as good.

The picture-perfect moments taped to my wall

in hopes for more.


Another wall

has polaroid on the hanging lights

that teleport me

to the fantasy world of my favourite music.

A clear reminder

of another list of happy things in my life,

taking me back to random epiphanies

of the truths untold,

and a series of serendipities

of promises that were kept,

and the comfort of a magic shop,

and a constant reminder of how life goes on,

and that my sweet nights,

as they touch 00:00,

will open to a new spring day.


I place my hands comfortably

above my warmth seeking eyes;

they have seen too much,

even through the darkness of the room,

I am hoping the warmth would seep through

and reach my imagination filled mind;

it has thought to much.


10th April 2022 at 6:40 a.m.

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