Of impulse

Don’t we all voluntarily ascend the stairs of despair
Or jump the valleys with spiked floors beneath
Speed through the roads to devastation
And spread our precious wings to frostbite
Just because ‘impulsive’ is a great feeling?

Is impulse the devil’s right hand man
For he comes dressed in garbs of appeal
Entices and blinds us to the obvious outcomes
And hazedly we follow his lead
To often wonder why so oblivious we’d been.

Or is he God’s little happy helper
Who colours the world with his happy zeal
A little short sight could be his shortcoming
But many a memories he generously imparts
Without him much duller the world would’ve been.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: