My Dying Conscience

My Dying Conscience

Everyday, when I reach my home after spending a long and tiresome day, I breathe a sigh of relief. I compose myself together after the daily grind and take some time to gather my thoughts in place. Sometimes, late in the gloomy crepuscule, I stop by my conscience to see if it's still breathing. I most often check to see if it's still alive. For it is dying a slow death everyday.

The mirror reflects my soul as I stand in front of it. It shows a slight glimpse of my true essence hidden beneath my social deceptive mask. It speaks to me and questions me, "Do you like what you see?" I stand in utter silence, my voice dried up. My mind tangled with chaotic thoughts and brainstorming for an answer. But nothing evolves from all that furore. No. Nothing. Not even a single word.

I gaze upon myself with absolute horror. This change in myself. This dying conscience. I think about all the opulence I enjoy and take for granted. I reflect on all those little things which I carry out everyday so slovenly.

The time when I buy fancy stuff with the amount which is perhaps the monthly income of a labourer, and then quickly yank away this thought, my conscience dies a little. The time when I see some trash on the street but walk on, thinking that it's not my job to clean, my conscience dies a little. And when I see someone in scrape, I ignore to help 'em thinking that it's futile to go for the effort, my conscience dies a little.

So there I lay, amidst my bewildered thoughts. The horror circling over my mind as I stop by my conscience. I am shocked when I see it is still alive. For I try to bury it daily with my very own bare hands. 

Composed By : Abdullah Riaz