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Born Jul 2016
A heart clenched
Words stack on my throat
A mortal slowly fading into dust
An echoing dreaded thought "This is how you'll  be remembered"

day after wretched day I cling to existence
A glimpse of hope that darkens away
A fragile life filled with poignant thoughts



Tears  hidden in a smile
Reminiscing a day long dead
A speck of laughter
'That's a sound I've forgotten'

Enticed into slavery
a life I loathed, but longed for

Gasping for more air
anything,
at least I get to breathe before demise
a certain fate


Sometimes  dreams are better than  reality
In dreams I don't suffocate
On the weight of my actuality
I don't  experience a reciprocating sad story
I am the hero, not the villain

But, this heart has been diced
Tricked  into illusions
of a compliment and a potent smile

a deceptive story of a stitched heart
long forgotten
©Ibrahim
Born Jul 2016
I might be Carter
a fallacious poet
who wrote you when you were broken
devoured in pit of hell
but still scratching for light

I might  be Born
a reborn creature awakened from slumber
with a soothing tone
slowly reaping your speck of hope

I might be him/her
the one who feeds you love poems
Enticing broken promises
and a promise of a happy ending
Born Jun 2016
Watching her go will be the death of me
Born May 2016
Often she wondered
Why her life was full of blunders
if ever she conquered the world
would it still matter

They say she botched her very existence
she wept day and night
the dead woke and wept with her

this distant world
this can't be her fate
a belated happiness
a belated life

When desolation
sorrow
and tots of regrets
surrounds, and pierces through her soul!

When she almost gives in to the gallow
a sorrowful Weeping willow
who is a widow
Of silence
creeps in and offers salvation
  May 2016 Born
Pradip Chattopadhyay
He comes knocking your door
Buys things you need no more
Weighs and pays for discarded load
Then goes off to another road.

For your pound he pays pence
Makes it seem in perfect sense
The deal is only if you're willing
To barter the old for new shilling.

You feel he adds some happiness
Clears the dirt creates the space
Your home was long a messy lot
With no place for new things brought.

Not all old things are like that dirt
A few are ever new are your part
He never asks them to be sold
Knowing you wouldn't for price of gold.
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