People are always judgmental on what you do and criticize about what you're supposed to do. Nobody sees the never ending chaos of your mind which struggles so badly to settle. Everything you do is to distract yourself from that chaos. From that unsettling chaos...

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We are all living with the wounds inflicted by those who spat their anger at us, just so that they can be at peace.

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"Why are you smiling?", Death asked.

"All my life I only wanted one thing - To be someone's first priority. Well, I guess, now I am 'your' first priority", the soul replied.

Death smiled, though he was burdened with millions of thoughts on how broken that soul was...

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In the world of "Thanks for understanding me", you are still searching for "I understand you..."

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Every stab to your heart,
Were from arrows of lies,
You acted as if it didn't hurt,
Yet bled through your eyes.

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Solitude is peace. Loneliness is suffering. There is a line in between solitude and loneliness, where there is neither peace nor suffering. It's a void of uncertainty where your existence doesn't matter at all.

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Life is so romantic.
Hugged by insecurities, kissed by regrets,
and addicted to the never ending despair.

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The Death had a curse. Anyone near him would age faster and any one he touches would die instantly.

Death fell in love with a woman. He would watch her from a distance. He didn't want his curse to affect her. When she walked away, he would stand where she stood and embrace her fragrance. He was in pain, not being able to tell his love to her.

Then one day, Death was assigned to take her soul. He approached her and touched her shoulder. She turned, but her soul already started leaving her body. But there was an instance, where she saw him. She looked at him, their eyes locked and she gave a warm smile..and left. But her smile never left. It was engraved into his heart.

Death was immortal..... So was his love for her....

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"Why are you so happy and full of tears?", the old lady asked.

"It's the flowers...", the young man replied.

"Oh.. First flower of the day?", she asked.

"No. First flower, ever...."

She saw the happiness in his eyes. Happiness of a man getting his first flower ever. It was his funeral...

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Ignorance is when you poeticize those voids in your heart rather than admitting the fact that those are stab wounds left by betrayals and lack of closures.

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