If they are not Broken

It’s difficult fixing the broken imaginations

Exists without much assessment, but their stillness is unnerving

Swerving through life’s errands in compulsive dedication

Sudden feeling about those imaginations during the recesses

Lean moments twists them into the mind into various shapes

 It feels to ecstatic to be busy with the idea of hectic times

These small luxuries of quietness bring in frantic vibes

Most of the imaginations feel like broken toys

Scattered around, here and there, they look feeble

Such escapism is sought by the mind during these moments

Of being given the task of abandoning busyness

All because of the unreal brokenness that appears real



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