The utter reality of my wrinkles





The wrinkles on my skin

Don’t show how weak I am

Nor how experienced I be

Nor the long race I ran

In the quest of being free…




Those patches on my skin

Don’t show how failed I am

Nor how insufficient I be

Nor the pains I took

In the quest to love thee…



Those foul make-ups marks on my disguise

Don’t show how insecure I am

Nor how ashamed I am

Nor how depressed I be

Of my toil for getting renewed, my identity




They don’t show any thing you think

Nor any thing you guess

Or figure or hear

Or place me into thee

But the glory of god, They just remind me…



How he reminds us of

Everything we do, we did

The power I once thought was mine

The wits on which once I did dine

The glamour, which once made the proud me…

These patches, wrinkles, all…just tell me, my real reality….


My utter reality…






The utter reality of ageing. Isn’t this what the almighty reminds us?

The reality of our proud “I”? The reality, which we tend to forget when we should remember it the most?









12 thoughts on “The utter reality of my wrinkles

  1. soumyav says:

    truth and reality!

  2. Yiskah's Thoughts says:

    Beautiful 😉

  3. very, very beautiful one snehal. we should better not be too confident about our assumptions about others.

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