? Played

A symphony, which took my word(s),
place(d) me to the motion of mis~understanding,
Stabbing the essence of each existence,
kept me lost, agitated but alive.
Hardly, was my reliance,
shred'ded with logs of self hate.
Making me feeble with my command,
Weeping around, for my merciless fate.
The plans deterd' cuz' they were extraneo(us),
not letting it work, but deteriorating it's faith.
Harshly, was the outcome,
just cries and self sabotage.
I couldn't define, just hesitate,
what disgust I held, was just in me.
Making me lose myself, as he play(d).

-

His Birthday, 5th May

It's his birthday today 5th May 2024,
My first Crush, who mercilessly blew away;
The emotions and devotions constructed for years
tickle the scars of rejection and humiliation.
It's the fifth year, back the same day on the fifth,
was my first proposal;
Unwavered conviction to tell,
what I felt from heart to body.
The letters composed, with feelings,
didn't emote him well.
Even though I've tossed myself out of that pit of pity.
The bond of love still toils to satisfy-
It's thirst for acceptance and consideration.
I want to wish him again, pray for him again,
see him again, be with him again;
But the answer to it is mercilessly crushed.

-

Comparison? What for?

Comparison is a stool for the rest to rise.
It may hand over them a seat to mull
over their capacities,
But also impairs one's potential and
allegiance.
How intense the world gets, with the
one;
who toils to build his presence in a
mundane individuality,
who developed the peace for himself
with suffering,
who obeyed the enmity with esteem
and divinity.

Comparison has ravished the identity of
one being the truest.
Not only it has biased barriers but also
colonial ones,
The stigmatization, the prejudice the
unfavorable social construction.
However, the selfhood of individualism
has shriveled.
But why comparison? why not joint
expansion?
Why covetousness and not love and
adore?
Ah, mustn't ignore that the concern
comes up within,
Approximating one not to oneself
but to a different being.
Nonetheless no ground, as to what
is being compared.

-

Wish I could express to him:

Wish I could express to him:
the efforts weren't wasted.
The moments I fail today,
aren't by choice' majorly disgusted.
Not with you at the hour,
few try to play with my fame.
Wish I could, be in those arms,
and fight Destiny's game.
Wish I could express to him:
I still cherish those feelings I held.
Scarcely- some adoration you hold,
But I need all of it today!
How hard it has been to express all,
couldn't submerge my doubts.
Labelled to be "stupid",
Wish I could express to him:
You are the love I crave from my divine arrow,
You are the love that fills
my heart with bliss and sorrow,
You are the love that makes me
soar above the clouds and stars,
You are the love that binds me to you,
wherever they are.
A Cupid to my life!

-

Life without love is...

Life without love is,
shadowed literature with scars.
Its' the glee in greed of grief,
and clutched is one, even free.
Esprit stagnates in loneliness,
vacating one estranged.
Love has the soundness to stir,
life's usurping reign.
Life without love is,
an epoch to get by heart:
About one's drenched emotions,
and woes of change.
It's a lesson for the one,
and a mentoring for a sober.
Fetching in the euphoria,
sometimes love shackles the life:
and life bleeds without love.

-

Thou'

Hē [they] demarcated thee to extremes,
thou being conscious of its strength.
Challenge(d) to each moment,
as it's a moment and abyss [hell].
Hē being against thee,
shouldn't pull thee [you].
Be hard to the surface,
holding the surmounted dignity.
Thou mayest' [may] abort the signs,
of toxic heart around.
But couldst thou perish,
the words of angst devil [Hē].
Be hold to thine [your] speech,
Hē may dry to defame.
Lust in dialogue may condone,
out of the honor thou behold.
Hē [they] demarcated thee to extremes,
remind the crusades thou addressed.
Upset not to those apexes,
Parch rosy with words and pure;
of thine [your] existence.

-

An Auction

From her red feet to the red floor,
She gripped the scars of greed and debt.
They focused on the jewel she carried,
not the one she esteemed, but for the one,
the way to make them wealthy.
From her profound desire to dislike,
She made an effort to melt her love with her
mate.
But was it just a deal with oneself-
was she auctioned to administer their greediness?
Alas! Stood scorched speech,
she couldn't convey what she went through.
As was used like a trifle when lusted,
and feted as a maid to dry n' fry.
The satisfaction went slipping,
she couldn't make of it, why is it stressing?
The fact that she 'brought love not money'.
When tormented by the narratives,
She felt to finish off things which weary.
But what would it generate an influence on?
Her defeat won't create this curse to a windfall.

-

Man(imal)'

The latched door of:
wails and whines,
Who cares that I deny?
Confine(d) in the case of:
denial and disrespect,
Who looks after my cries?
The Ogre I address-
whacks me to the ground,
rapes me with a mob of:
His longing and lust,
Whom to protest?
I always doubt!
Is it my flaw to be born with gold?
Or the fault is to care for his soul;
Which withered in the midst of lust,
and broke me in blood:
on the Wedding Night!
Clipped are my expressions,
moaning for liberation & loyalty.
the acceptance they demand,
on each morn and dusk when I fight;
not for the Man(imal)
who sold me to drink,
but for the unborn,
who is ignorant of this!

-

Things happen for the good!

Believe in the words of nature,
"Things happen for the good!"
Unfriend the nemesis of fortune,
adore the vigor of your belief.
Bring in the whispers of heart to a result,
and the thankless psyche to a halt!
The merit will be procured soon,
try not to relinquish the hustle.
The shimmer may not wither soon,
just be a monk in the spirit of self!
May, someday you encounter:
the adverse reflection or a mind.
Not to ignore what you learned
from yourself,
while inhaling the hardships.
Believe in yourself,
if you are at your best.
The grind will turn to a Spring,
You see: Things happen for the good!

-

Loneliness and solitudes are best for writers,
they build and revive them from their pain.
These help them to grow from basic emotions
to the strong multitudes of pleasure with disdain.
Loneliness gives them a platform to express,
how they felt about the world when were alone,
When none addressed them with devotion
when they were in search of it: A screaming soul.
Solitude was a beloved friend of theirs,
who guided their heart with grief and distress.
It not only helped them to build a new empire,
but also gardened the flowers of love in the eyes;
and the fountain of admiration in their words.

-