Everybody has their own personalized monster,
weaved by the needles of their experiential Traumas,
living under their beds,
clutching onto their deepest repressed
Silences;
or
hovering over their Consciousness
akin to the Pall
over their non-existent bodies,
being carried
for one last time
towards their awaiting
Deathless Caskets.
In my Story,
the Monster that glares down at my body,
incarcerated in its Lair
is the nefarious
Invincible Time.
Inescapable,
just like its phallic ticks
at the curb of every fleeting hour.
I sit aghast,
entrapped
and
mute;
my limbs
cut
by the sharp pace of Time.
Since the day my temporary body entered the world,
it has been at War
against Time.
My essence beats against
the entrapping Ribs every day.
The clock never fails to strike Twelve
every darkling night,
with an unnerving reminder
of its inescapable grandiose.
A gentle Reminder
that the
Run of my Soul
shall never match up to
the
Running Time.
Radhika Pradhan Ó
rebelthymachine 