Uncertainty.
They say that change is constant. But who’re we fooling? Uncertainty is.
It hits you like a cloud burst on a summer morning,
Leaving you numb, shaken and motionless,
Plunging you in blinding darkness.
A parched tongue,
A lump in your throat,
A stomach churn,
A sinking boat.
When the rosy pink turns to a pale white,
You wonder, if it finally was,
Worth the fight.
Uncertainty.
The unwanted visitor
Who knocks at your door,
To tell you blatantly,
Family is one less than four.
You pause, you stagger, you scream, you fall,
What’s that you said about standing tall?
Uncertainty.
Its destiny playing an unfair game,
Forcing you down memory lane.
Taking the road back to home,
Asking you why you live alone?
Urging you to cut the distance,
Trying hard to knock some sense.
Bringing you back to family and friends,
Making you wonder if it had to end?
Ink and Paper 