The tale which has days

Another day begins and I am done,

With waking up and renewing myself.

The effort alone is not enough,

Unless the bird cries the hardest and,

It shakes the cage.

Ask me what I can do and I will say,

I will be happy for others and depressed for myself.

These different phases do not call for help,

But these apologies stay here and do not fly,

Where they should go.

They should soothe the ones I wounded.

I keep them to myself, this inability,

What are the chances of going back now.

I ask now, you and everyone,

I am not good at this thing where,

Feeling warm and sorry should be extended.

I am cold and I am swallowing many things,

To let these words pass without any hiccups.

I am sorry for things done and words said,

And I ain’t doing this to keep my days easy.

I am me, and will continue to be.

But I want you to forget your wounds and,

And just go on with the days.

You are real and good.

Stay so.

Running Out of Things

 

I always run out of things to write about.

It always happens. 
Then i look back at my life and try to envision what it would be like if all of my dreams were real.

I close my eyes and I fail to imagine it.

I am not able to find words. 

Mouth runs dry save for a cold breath.

If only I could tell you how it feels.

This exact feeling when I am hopeless with everything. 

When future isn’t a bright promise but a nightmare.

These cribs about an unjust and unfair existence.

Say mind is free and soul is forever young.

But mine is reduced to a failed imagination.

There are things I tried when I was desperate.

Mind me If I say I’ve lived the 24 hours of a single day inviting hope when I laboured on.

Hope came when I was down,

It lifted me into the high skies where I saw the Sun and felt its warmth on my skin.

It was all, a moment.

Hope is gone now and the Sun burns my skin.

I have forgotten the emotions I used to feel while crying.

Dry eyes ache but they do not conceal anything.

I am done with disappointments.

I have forgotten what they meant and how they affected me.

For all the care in this world,

None is for me.

Life isn’t roses and sunshine and it isn’t fair.

All I can say is that the thorns are picky about people.

Call it cynicism, pessimism or whichever word you deem right.

Doubts flicker as I know things.

There is no fight with the world.

It knows me well to spare me.

Plight is just a thing said to cover the big picture.

And this life that people so often speak about, 

They attribute words to deepen its significance.

Nothing is significant and none is worth saving.

Religion and money should be synonyms for life.

For everything said and done in this brief life of mine I have understood nothing.

I could feel love in my flesh and bones.

Only if it had something to do with my hunger.

I am hungry and this feeling is the worst there is.

I want to break out of this cycle but it is not allowed.

I must confine myself to these breaths and hopes.

Running away is not an option. 

I Pretend

I come across a person
Whether on internet or in real life
It doesn’t matter

So i meet him or her
I talk to them
I always try to show off
Because a look at me
And people always think I am a loser
I don’t want it to be the case
Even if it’s in my head
So i show off
I say big things
I read somewhere
Name big persons
Who aren’t known to me
I do all of this
Acknowledging
I sound fake
And the other person
Can sense it

But what can i do
I have to show off
If i don’t
Then i despise them
For no clear reason
Other than the lunacy
That they’re better than me
At certain things
And I
Who is the best human
To walk this Earth
Is not equal to them.

Going Crazy

I sit by the wall
And look up
These sounds speak
Once again
They speak to each other
And tell things
One says that the girl
Whom you rejected
Scorns you
Other says that the girl
Isn’t even aware
Of your existence
One says that you will
Be punished
For this sin
Other says that you’re
Ugly and no woman
Ever spoke to you
One says people see through you
And they know you’re fake
Other says you are always mistaken for who you are
One says that your behaviour
Is weird and it puts people off
Other says that you are too bland
And people don’t like you around
These sounds
Aren’t mine
I think they belong to someone
Who look like me
But isn’t me
But how can this be
I don’t know
All that I know is
I’m going crazy

Run Away

I have dreams
Big and ugly
I want to avoid them
What can i do?
Run away
I always do
But they follow me
Perhaps i should do something
I should do something to others
It will divert my mind
It will take away these ugly dreams
And i will sleep and live peacefully
But
I am not inhumane
I don’t want to burn others
To take away my pain
I don’t want to be ’em
But then what should i do?
Suffer alone.
Alone.
Or there is something
I will do alone
Maybe the play is in me.