Window

Staring at the blank page,
Not a word of my own in my mind,
Every story of the world passing
through a digital window,
but still I have nothing to say.
World grows, great things are done,
amazing people are found,
And these facts make money
when I sit and loathe myself in a corner.
The only place I can see myself
is in that corner,
the right angles that support me.
I try hard,
To just look at myself,
Just me, but it's clouded,
she is not there,
she is ashamed,
she can't accept herself.
And her outlet are these words,
Which provides her the window,
to escape,
atleast for a minute.

Bricked

Few stripes of coloured hair,
self judgemental mirror,
A loathed fat tummy
And everything,
bricked mind which has
failed to perfect the shell,
too dormant to notice
the inner soul,
that everyone misses out
while looking for the soothing pink!
The paper and ink
opened the shell
to discover new,
better questions!
A new soul for the mind
to accept and adore!

A drizzle...

The droplets drizzling inside my room,
I feel them on my arms,
The memories flashing inside my
Head in sequence and
Me, unable to stop it..
It's drizzling and I feel cold,
But I can't move myself to close
the window!
The guilt and regret,
making me hate myself more,
The silent suffering,
the unspeakable language,
the girl dying inside!

Hopeless heart...

It gets stirred in a flash,
gets attached to thorns
and embraces the pain,
the scar upon.
As much as it loves
the concept of love,
it's most hated thing
is itself!
the newborn, the kid,
the teen and the granny,
all in one, taking turns,
it being in a constant dizz...
the delightful food,
the soothing music,
the soulful nature,
But it nurtures on
the crazy love...

You never had..

a balloon up in the air,
flying away..
that beautiful Daisy
you didn't wanna pluck..
that amazing piece of art
which was not for sale..
that alluring aroma
you never sensed again..
that ripe yellow fruit,
at the top of a tree..
that perfect cup of coffee,
you never made again..
those mesmerizing pair of eyes,
you never saw again..
that magical word
you never heard again..
that piece of music
you hear only in your heart..
that addictive pain of losing
something,
you never had...

The bus..

The lines are running backwards,
the green grass wave, greeting us,
Wind playing with my hair,
The sleepy guy, loud guy
the crying baby,
And the staring granny,
The cattle, waking up the driver,
the curves of the road
Rocking us on board,
We keep moving forward,
With the sun,
With the moon.

The bitch

She was there stumbling over stones,
on the road.
Shivering in cold,
Feeling my hold,
lids half closed,
so frail and tiny.
She dined milk,
a longing lick
for the boned and bogged
tum of hers.
She was blind,
I didn't know.
Her stumbling legs
pawing in air,
Tiny thin tail
Swirling around
to play.
The next morning
All I heard was her scream
somewhere.
She was there,
her lightless eyes
reflecting them,
She was there,
No blood,
No wounds,
No scars,
And no breath.