Abhinav Ajitkumar: Poems

Abhinav Ajitkumar 3d

Life on lie, I couldn't even die.
Is she yours… or mine?
I do… do I comply?
Should I just die?

Why would you fight, when you're not mine?
Did I do right?
Do I get a chance to prove I’m right?

I didn’t commit the sins
It was indeed him.

The smile that lies on something that is a lie,
The evil in his eyes that made me cry.

Like “a fly on the wall,” it can also suggest someone who silently watches without being noticed, maybe even spying or creeping Poetic Note:
This poem captures the pain of betrayal and the storm of inner questions that follow. Through powerful contrasts—truth vs. lies, guilt vs. innocence, love vs. abandonment—it gives voice to a wounded heart seeking justice and clarity. The repetition of questions and the sharp final image of “evil in his eyes” leaves a lasting echo of sorrow, strength, and suppressed truth.

#betrayed #lost #broken #sad

THE REGRET

Abhinav Ajitkumar 5d

THE REGRET

I saw the people smile,
And at last, the dying smile.
Hearing the last call,
Losing my vision of love.

I felt like I was falling down,
Deep under the water’s ground.
The dark made me sad,
I saw... saw nobody there.

The promise that they made,
Now felt like it was in vain.
If I get a chance,
I would walk alone, not trust in vain.

"A reflection on death, love, and the quiet ache of promises that fade when we need them most."

#regret #emotion #feelings

WHAT DO I DO

Abhinav Ajitkumar 3d

WHAT DO I DO

I will draw
But there are no colours left to see.
I try to draw
But what is there for me?

I do not walk,
Yet still, I talk.
I try to speak,
But who will hear me when I’m weak?

I cry sometimes
But my face stays dry.
Tears fall inside my eyes,
But who replies?

I try to play,
But I’ve grown too tall
The toys I knew are far too small.
I play with walls
That never play at all.

I live,
But do I live a life?
I craft a lie
But who deserves my lie?

This poignant piece speaks in the soft, echoing voice of a soul caught between childhood and maturity—a liminal space where joy has faded and expression feels futile. The imagery of colourless drawing, voiceless speech, and invisible tears paints a picture of emotional isolation, while the shrinking toys and silent walls mark the loss of innocence. The repetition of effort—"I try to..."—against a backdrop of futility conveys a powerful struggle for meaning and connection. This is not just a poem; it is a quiet scream for recognition, asking: "Does anyone see me? Hear me? Understand me?" The final lines linger like a whisper—torn between truth and the burden of pretending.

#feeling #lonely #sad

— The End —