Italicised

She wakes up to a dark room
& makes an attempt to ignore-
all the monsters under her bed,
all the skeletons in the closet,
all the demons in her head;
But nightmares have their way.
She wipes her forehead & whispers
a fervent prayer.
"No, un-italicise me."

She walks on golden brown sand
in a city of frozen glass volcanoes.
Everything is different;
everyone's the same.
She looks at a wisp of white overhead
in a blazing blue sky.
She shades her face & whispers
rather amusedly.
"To un-italicise me?"

She stands on an escalator
& the wrong crowd waves at her.
Colours erupt at a distance
where she is not allowed to go.
She meanders to a mirror;
a muffled reflection flies towards her.
She closes her eyes & whispers
another useless spell.
"Go, un-italicise me"

She stares at a pseudonym-
a name she vowed not to take!
Her fingers drum on her keyboard.
Should she now or should she not?
Her mind is a cluttered warehouse
of stale sense & safe alibis.
She smiles at herself & whispers
to the faceless intruder.
"So, un-italicise me"

Maps are not always
about straight lines.
She had taken a U-turn
before she reached it;
& now she lives a bad dream
stained with credibility.

Let's hope she wakes up someday
with amnesia & an empty past!
If she does , do remind her:
She is better off-
italicised.
------------------------------------------------
:)