I wanted stillness promised myself—

I wanted stillness, promised myself—

a moment of peace on my cluttered shelf.

But screens flicker, fingers scroll,

reality tugs on my restless soul.

Resolution crumbles beneath tired feet,

in the empty corner, a yoga mat greets.

'Just ten minutes,' my heart used to say,

now lost in the rush of the day-to-day.

Each promise unfurls like a delicate thread,

snarled and tangled in all that I've fled.

I close the notebook, just feel the weight,

shadows in corners—it's already too late.