It’s been so long.
They’re all gone.
Some have reached.
Some about to.

Most days, I think of loss.
Once in a while, I embrace.
I know, I did right.
Once in a while, I accept it.

No time, I was fine.
Never I lived happily.
All I passed was broken.
None that I was in time.

It’s been so long.
Many ways they chase.
The other way that I go.
Some far, rest a little less known.

-

The clown acts,
the circus lights up.
The clown walks,
the blind circus follows!

-

Life is all about actions.
I feel it is a dramatic concoction
of different acts.

Sometimes it’s about you standing in the rain.
.
Sometimes it’s about who gets you the umbrella.
.
Sometimes it’s about the one who stands in the rain
while they have the choice to embrace the warmth
of a cozy home.
.
Other times, it’s about the one who flood your house,
ruin your peace and makes you wonder,
if it’s the heavy rain, or the universe crying
at your despair.


Not sometimes anymore, is something that I conclude.
It’s always about every time that life holds a story,
is a story.

And it’s every story that holds a life.

-

And maybe sometimes we are too harsh on ourselves
that we be so kind to others, while we bleed, only to
realize later that all this time we were the one who
suffered unkindness, few by them, most by our own self.

-

If there’s something in me
that would probably kill me
someday then that would be
my desire.

A longing that I had as a child,
A longing for love, care and kindness.

If ever I lose to chaos living in me,
I would say that I was killed by my
own self that desired to live.

-

yet we keep on playing various roles.
Some days are just an act of leaving
things behind. And then, a day
where every light has to fade.

I smile today, I laugh out loud,
and I have started to dance
in the new song. I see no tears.

A star shines brightest
at its last moments is
what they say.

-

I keep weight inside me.
Tons of hopes andbroken promises.
Tons of love, grief and chasm.

I hold death of all those lives
that I desired in the life that’s
slipping through my fingers.

-

In case you don’t find love,
Just knock the door.

This time the door
should be yours!

-

When I was a child I had hopes
to grow up soon, and punish all my abusers.

When I grew up, I have had so much
of new additions that I lost my every will
to ask them all, “Why did they do that to me?”

I often think of revenge.
But I’m taught to be kind.

I want to forget all abuse that
I have suffered all these years
but a big “How?”, stays still.

I want to forget. I wish to erase my memory.
Maybe I wish for dementia or death, if nothing.
But I don’t want to forget the people who
have loved me, and my Lord.
I don’t want to be a burden either.

I also don’t want to be a fighter,
I’m getting tired now. It’s heavy to hold it all.
The abuse, the trauma and the loss, they all
leaves one to rot.

It’s unusual how I write in such distaste
of how mundane I have become.
I hold no thrill. I keep no fear.

My soul is asking me to rest,
and I’m constantly consoling it by saying,
“Just one more day,
just a little more till the sun sets.”

-

I make them bloom,
They leave me to
wither away,
like forgotten flowers.

-