Abhishek Verma

A Poetry

Photo by Artem Riasnianskyi on Unsplash

There was a time,
When traveling,
Across distances,
Would take days.

Today it takes,
Hours or maybe,
Minutes,
Still no time.

The perception,
The freedom,
Of having time,
The prison of perfection.

Where has the time,
Why the hands of,
The clocks,
Run so fast now.

I don’t know,
Why,
This,
Has come…