As the end of it was getting closer,
Each second felt like a thorn,
meant to guard the rose in me,
But instead poking it hard,
to steal away its bloom gradually.

I thought of taking it as people asked me to,
"One day at a time"
But then there are too many days.
One day at a time was killing me.
One day at a time isn't good enough,
when you only have a bit of yourself left.
You can't let that go now, one day at a time.
There are too many one days.
Too many for me to take.
Too many for me to survive.

One day at a time,
the dead rose is withering.
O n e d a y a t a t i m e .

- क़तरा