Life In Cocoon

What's life been,
is a disaster.
What's yet to happen,
is a mystery.

Packed in a cocoon
in the darkness
lonely I am.
As life throbs by
I regret the past
and exhilarate myself imagining the bright future.
As it always has been,
just an imagination.

I remain numb
for all that I can do is expect,
Isn't it so.

Here I live in my cocoon,
regretting the obvious past,
exhilarated by the brilliant future
which I have carved myself out of sheer loneliness, pessimism and regret.
And of course it remains an Imagination
While this prolific present becomes,
obsolete and past.