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The mind is like an onion

by Debangana Mishra

Like an on(I)on
My m(I)nd unfolds,
multilayered as it grows.
Perennially nurturing the
Secrets and stories that it
Lived and learnt.
Thoughts race through every little
Ridge and groove they find
In my mind.

Like an on(I)on,
My m(I)nd
Dissociates and disintegrates.
With blinding tears streaming down my face—
Stinging my eyes,
Burning my ears and
Parching my throat.

Like an on(I)on
My m(I)nd peels itself open.
I am exhausted of my m(I)nd.
I have been trying to reach the core of the
Constant buzz at the centre of my being
For as long as I have lived now. Maybe.
Or, maybe it was when I began to think.
Or, it could be when I discovered
My m(I)nd.

I try to reach and read the core of it.
Every time I do,
I find none exists.
Still, I keep on peeling the
Infinite fleshy layers of the bulb
That lights my soul:
My m(I)nd.


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