The Dark Side Of Moon
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
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When I stand before the mirror
to my horror
I find I have lost me
stares back at me
Sherlock
though I hate him
he warms up to me
takes me in his reins
morose eyes twinkly
gait sprightly
I become him
waken and in dream
memorizing his line
making his habits mine
like him I sprint
trails of footprint
and in all his fantasy
I'm no more me.
He scares
haunting in nightmares
one part
one heart
one role
He steals my soul.
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