Confusion.

Here I am,
Here I am watching,
Here I am waiting,
Here I am writing,
Here I am erasing.

Sick of this illusion,
whose symptom is this confusion.

Every time the stake is my peace,
Don't know, how many times I'll put it up on lease,
I construct this infrastructure around me,
With no courage to take it down,
Its a puzzle, that too a round one,
Its the perfume inhaled,
which intoxicates,
and doesn't let you breath.

When all the decorations,
all the wall pieces,
all the ribbons,
descend the wall it once embraced,
everything bites dust,
including what I trust.
When it all starts to fall,
Who would be standing tall

In silence I sing,
its the sin,
in whose shadow I remain,
engraved and embedded.

It can't be touched,
but it stays on me,
its weight, its pull,
all around me,
surrounded I am,
with no sheild or armor.

and when it divorced me,
got me married to the aftermath,

I stand and watch,
Lurking questions I ask,
is it just I,
or perhaps you just have masks.