The mirror across my bed says otherwise

I'm here, but I'm not

Scribbled lines across my forehead

This thought I tried really hard to remember,

It appears to be elusive to the eye

Always hides behind a curtain

My arms,

Outstretched still—

I fail to clutch it with my very small hands

I forget.

My body is filled with fog

It spreads slowly, hissing

And a melody, rather monotonous

And repetitive,

Like a pendulum.

Almost like the sound of church bells,

And the lingering microphone screeches from Maghrib

It stays for some time

And my body is rendered to a state of hopeless rigidness

"Wake,"

You call me

I try really hard,

But I cannot move.

I see disappointment in your eyes

Staring down upon me

I don't know what to say

I wish I could find an answer for you

I really thought that this time,

I must have had everything planned.

The writer is a student of class 11 at St Joseph Higher Secondary School.