I can't be her forever
That girl who wears exquisite dresses
Who is adored by all
Who cares for others, and shows sympathy.
As I grow older,
Their love for me fades.
Is that a realisation that they won't love me unless I'm a little girl with dreams afresh.
When will I be showered with love, unconditionally?
All fondness, she's snatched it away from me.
I adore her too, but please, let me be loved too.
Now I am, nothing but a burnt out girl, who some like, while others averse.
What can I do now? Or say? Or think?
One wrong move, and they turn on me like I'm a creature awful.
So please, let me be her, so I can reclaim the love I was showered with once.
If she can be dearly loved, then why can't I?

Oh there I am, standing like a lifeless body pale.
Waiting for that feeling to come.
I Wait, I wait, I wait, but there is none.
Neither there is sympathy, nor a care for the world.
It's the same as being everywhere, while being done.
We all will be reduced to nothingness,
but until we turn into a corpse, let us be the mourner, without regretting something that was ours once.
Why can't I feel anything? I do care, but I don't.
Don't you get it? I don't wanna play this act of being me anymore.
She cries for me. she lives for me. Hell, she even prays for me. Am I her, or is she just a phase?
I can't decide, without being a carcass yet.

How wild it was, to let it be.
The oceans of grief that I feel,
Yearning for each one that leaves.
I feel the forest fire in me,
The forest is me, the fire is me, and I stand there, watching it all destroy me.
You stood up, walked away, and the grass where you lay, left a bed in your shape, I just gazed over it and I ached.
But I stood up too, walking the other way, kept looking back, but never quite returned to you.
And every time I looked back, it felt as if it was night and the moon was especially focused upon my plight, a recollection of my memories  appeared at the corner of my eyes and gently rolled down my cheeks. every single time, I swear I saw our lost memories appear there again, you laying there, I pictured it, but it all went away with the river that streamed down my face.
This poem isn't meant to rhyme and satisfy, the pain it gives me is beautified.
Oh I'll yearn for you, and then I'll bid you a bye, when everyone bids me a bye.
Oh, the art of time. I hope you feel guilty, time, to be the greatest thief of all time.

time does not heal ,
it numbs.
as i sit by the window, trying to let go..?
i find tears building up, making me as still as a willow.
picturesque me, weeping in sorrow,
shaken by the footsteps of the incoming fellow.
all that i have done is holy, all that i have done is sin.
beneath the endless sky, oh lord! let me sob with grief,
without the disturbance of these pitiful mere beings.
though i lay below them, merest of the mere beings.
that same night, thoughts flooded my mind,
how time never healed, it just benumbed.
don't agonize my dear, it will all be fine, i know you have it grim, but time, it will make you chums with your bruise, you just need to understand,
how time does not heal, it numbs.