TRISHNAA

I bury myself under a blue sky, because I feel dizzy, my night begins early before I get to see any stars twinkling above. My bed isn’t soft; it’s a common path for everybody. I wear a sando and half-pant, tacky and shabby. A rough, ragged old sack is the only friend of mine, whom I could play with. I ail and sometimes I even yell in pain. I am in pain because of my habits. I smoke, I inhale substances. I like the smell of dendrite. Passerby stares at me in surprise, some shocked but I care none of their reactions towards me because I do what I like. I yell in pain sometimes, these stuffs aren’t gifted to me, I try and purchase them. I wake up every morning for sake of being in pleasure of pain. I search, I search everywhere in a hope that I could at least find a penny to get what I want. My day then begins with a hunt for money. I beg people. I request politely to the passerby but all that they give me is fuming stare sometimes even get slapped that is why most of the time I target my innocence towards women. Some of them show sympathy but that doesn’t matter, all that matters is money to me. Finally, at the end of the day, I have enough money to erase my “trishnaa” and I laze on my bed and bury myself under the blue sky again.