An Incomplete Poem Poem by Muhammad Umair

As I sit down to put down
words on the paper, some
restraints always jump
on me. I begin my poem,
'The eyes manifest pain
And shed tears like rain, '
and a knock on the door
intercepts it. Angrily, I ask,
'Who is it! ' A voice replies,
'The milkman.' After a slight pause,
I start again, add another line,
'And the pain affected my brain, '
and my gib comes growling at me,
asking to feed her. After feeding her,
I put down more words,
'For this pain, only I am to blame, '
and my cell's vibration irks me,
a notification from FB, saying,
'You have a memory to look back on, '
O', FB, this is the memory I wanna
move on from. I sit, relax, stretch my
back, put my hands back to the poem,
'And never will I be the same, '
and another knock on the door
pierces through my head,
'Dinner is ready.' After dinner,
my usual '700 steps are always remaining.'
I complete my chores,
there is no more knock on any door,
every single thing I, now, shall ignore,
I tread in my room, in my bed, all ready to
write my best ever poem. I take a sip of
water, put my hands back on the poem
and the sleep creeps in from nowhere
like a monsoon rain. And I, with a sigh,
behold at my poem,
'The eyes manifest pain, '
which always remains incomplete.