I don't have a special cricket bat
Which I remember Playing with
Nor a badminton racquet

I don't have it now,
Neither do I miss it

I never had a piggybank
Which I remember putting my
money to

Nor a exclusive videogame
Setup,
Which I could play all day

I never shared my things with others
Too much ,
For
it to have any marks left
I could reminisce to

I never wanted many toys
And neither do I have any left
That when glanced could make me
Feel
a bit more younger,

I was kind of aloof
could never make friends and last
them as be ,

But maybe I can
And I do feel nostalgic nowadays

I remember many friends,
Miss new ones
Laugh at older ones
And
Wish if time could ever reverse

But I never could remember
Old things
Faces
Names
Toys
And
Friends

Then suddenly why can I ?

I remember one face
Like a catalyst
Like a key
To a flashback story
Of Countless hours
Of clouded memory

Many faded away
But one remained constant

Still is,
A living souvenir
Aging
Growing
Changing
And
Affecting.

I used to care for little things.
I used to stare at her — for anything.

Her presence — a quiet warmth.
Her beauty, engraved with moral sense.

I searched for her,
Desiring… something.
Like loving summer,
Even when it wasn’t the season.

Why can’t I feel now?
Why can’t I see now?

I lied.
Not to her —
To myself.
Camouflage.
Pretending.
Hiding the real me
Behind polite smiles
And the fantasy
Of her fragrance.

The wind passed.
She didn’t.
And I —
I only needed to breathe
That one moment.
That moment to live,
Not merely pass through.

Why can’t I lie now?
Why can’t I breathe now?

I used to do anything for her.
I used to feel too much.
Sad.
Emotional.
Mad.
Human.

I used to dream of you.
And in dreaming,
I forgot
Which part was real.

Why can’t I be mad now?
Why can’t I be sad now?
Why can’t I dream now?
Why can’t I feel now?

Then — that night.

She stood
On the bow of the boat,
Hair caught in wind,
Hands folded,
Lips soft with mist,
Moonlight whispering on her skin.

The sea slashed the port.
The wind howled through silence.
The stars stood still.

She stepped forward.
Closer,
Closer,
And closer —

Until her breath became words:
“A good dreamer you are,
Beloved.”

Green puddle
Grey sky
blue bulb
Pink tv
Black leaf

Is all I can see from my roof.

Why a poem ?
This,
Yes this is *******

I force my face to curve
Yes , this is totally *******.

A don't give a **** face ?
Yes,That's why I can't pose,
Astheticism
Is not my **** blood,
Yeah i can fake a smile though

I had never a steering in my hand,
Now I have it
I can direct it to literally anywhere

And yes , I don't know why I kept moving

I have seen thousands of sceneries through this
Window,
Now I really decided to stop on this

Now when I stepped on the surface,
I lost the **** steering

Now someone else has it,
Another steering same purpose

And hey that's totally ******* too,

I have my legs so I can walk
Steps more,
But i will not and can't follow the car though,

The car was **** nice,
Ac inbuilt, soundproof glass
Feeling like on castle,
Looking down on one's who's
On **** bycycle
And one's who on his feet

They are **** ******* ******* too,
But all there is wanted to make a stop

Each stop is just is exaggerated
Now or then doesn't matters

Everyone will lost their **** steering.

This ,
This is
Not poem on sheet
Just pure *******.

And yeah now I am the scenery
Either I wait for the
The person who drives
Or just walk few more steps

Either way it depends on kind of glass
The person wears
Red or green
Cause the traffic light is absolute white
Completely neutral

The light has a button too,
to change accordingly

But as the scenery is
The light is absolute ******* too.

No one hears a word they say
Has the memory gone? Are you feelin′ numb?
Not a word they say
But a voiceless crowd isn't backin′ down
When the air turns red
With a loaded hesitation
Can you say my name?
Has the memory gone? Are you feelin' numb?
Have we all become invisible?