For want of total peace
And eternal bliss,
The poor thing
Doesn't even perceive
What he gave up on--

A love of the rarest kind
Was persistently knocking
On his little door.
Yet, he discarded it,
Posthaste.

-

Bumpy, dusty,
under an even-ing
sky at odds with light,
I return, thinking of you

Of a one-way trip
toward wishful peaks,
to which we both aspire,
of which neither speaks

Treacherous roads
mirror our feelings
discarded like old toys,
tissues and peelings

And as I return
taking a different route,
no longer subject to
objective truth,

Day fades, I look out to see
places built on memories;
they make for a fascinating sight:
blurry at dawn - sharper by night

-

You hurt me so much
That my all good feelings
Towards you got discarded!

-

Your discarded things which are a WASTE for you,
might be the
BEST for some.

-

If we are not beneficial to the whole, nature will discard us.

-

They call her 'DOLL'
This Doll gave all the love, time, comfort and being used.... In the end got discard and abused....
But I'm sorry to tell you one thing,
This Doll is also HAUNTED.

-

Everyday...
I exist...for you to cuddle when you are blue.
And then, I lie discarded and forgotten in some corner, waiting for you...
everyday...every moment

-

UNWANTED WEED
You uprooted me and slowy detached me from your life, as if my love for you was some unwanted weed,
Forgot me so soon, as if I was some bad dream ;
While I kept trying to save and keep the the plant of my love for you alive,
My love kept dying,
But I swear as I promised darling, I never gave up , I kept trying
I knew it wouldn't have the strength to repair itself twice, but my heart-
I kept pushing it and and tried until it was completely exhausted and tired,
Until one day it was finally shattered and broken in a trice.
The plant I tried so hard to keep alive also breathed it's last and finally died,
My tears that fueled it's life, could no longer make it thrive ;
Still why would you care dear,
Coz for you just some other weed out of many in your garden died !
But for me the only plant of my love failed to survive......

-

The list piles up
Of the discarded thoughts I chose not to execute. On the brink of being published they were left to solitude.
Sometimes fingers poured them lucidly on the keyboard and sometimes they were planned days before. But they didn't leave a lasting impression to cater the reader's mind. To abridge the gap of petrifying thoughts with multitude of divine.

-

Nothing is harder
than the pain of being discarded
And eventually, nothing easier.

-