and i've aged.

years nor decades it is not,
but just a mere few days, hours, minutes, seconds ago,
i realised,
i've aged,
and my soul's tired.

the air around so musty,
like dust from a thousand years back.
i can't breathe,
it's suffocating or
is it me who wishes to be dead.

death. morbid as it is.
taboo to many.
but death,
an everyday event,
which calls for a day or celebration
or a day of mourning.

i'm clad in black from head to toe,
and i mourn for a dead me just seconds back.
rejoice, for my soul re-lives,
and hail, for this is the new born me.


i wish for time to stop- right now.