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 Grover


Leave a Reply