I have a room with a big, round rug
Its been there for several months
But no one ever bothered about it
So it just lies all alone as if it haunts
I have that rug for several years
It gets on my nerves for no real reason
To sit and watch it is a heinous task
I can't help doing it and still it feels like treason
It makes me pull at my hair and annoys me
It makes me mesmerized by the way it rests
My senses, they deceive me, just seeing it
I want to leave but that leaves me messed
The dust that settles on it takes its time
It takes minutes, hours and decades to settle
And when it finally does, there's more that come
Its a mystery how, and which noone can unravel
It irritates my eyes, this dust on the rug
How careless it is of the world and me
It doesn't care where and how it was
It just is and that makes it so free
The dust that noone never cared to remove
Will remain there no matter what
The light that catches it enhances its dimensions
And that never changes it, just its appearance somewhat
This dust will remain, no matter what
Not because it is invisible, but because it is just there and carefree
I want it to go but can't live without it
Still this dust in the rug gives me OCD...
©AkshayaGadre