It was a slow descent into irrationality—
a step down the ladder, then another,
straining not to lose her grip on reality.
The last few rungs were slick and slippery;
hands clasping, feet grasping—every effort proved futile.
Her footing lost, to fall friction-free towards a chasm of misery.
There, cloaked in solitude and embalmed with anodyne,
she lay still on her bedrock that overcast night.
‘How are you?’— ‘I’m fine.’
~Ananya Grover2 Likes