Saturday, 7 April 2012

Miss Misfit

Hair tied in a bun,
A grey oversized coat,
She looked at herself in the mirror
For her, dressing up was no fun.

She picked up her bag
And walked on the crowded streets
None noticed as she entered the college premises
For her, college was no fun.

She sat in the corner of a class,
Staring into space.
Neither her batchmates nor her teachers ever bothered to break her reverie,
As she observed everything silently.

She tried hard to find similarities,
To find someone who could understand her,
Someone who noticed the imperfections of the world,
Someone who, like her, was a mute spectacle in this loud world.

People unnerved her,
Her parents' expectations left her dejected with herself.
She tried hard to fit in the perfect shoes,
But always ended up in a misfit pair.

She had no sense of humour,
No one to entertain her in her bleak world.
When the rest of the world celebrated a feast after a day's labour,
Her tears, her only companion, arrived every night at an hour so misfit to cry.

Peek in her journal,
And notice this misfit world,
As she talked about a millionaire bragging about the unimportance of money
Or the untimely death of a mother on delivering her baby.

Finally after a good seven days,
She reached to a decision after much debate.
She swallowed the pills and dreamt forever.
Alas! Even this time she chose the most unfit hour.

For her mother had finally decided to break the ice,
To talk to her daughter and be merry and nice.
She opened her door only to discover her still,
At such a misfit moment she had stopped her life-mill.

Dressed in a perfect white gossamer, She was carried to the cemetery
And as she was laid in her grave,
The coffin fit in perfectly,
Her very first jigsaw puzzle that finally fit into place.

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