If today be my last
Day on this earth,
The day to give up my soul!
Should I spend it in tears?
Or spend it in joy?

Should I spend my last hours Indoor?
Or spend it among folks?
Should I be in despair?
Or my heart be filled with joy?
Should I  dance and celebrate
The Day I would join the ascenstors?
Tell me friend! How should I spend it?

life is an irony,
A place where non-living things tends
To live longer than the living
Life's too short
The dust beneath  your feet today
Might be your roof tomorrow!

Life is a battle field
The survival of the fitest
Then palm wine for the victors
Seven virgins should be waiting,
My soul groans to give in
Am a wounded worrior,  
And my cartridge is empty of bullets!

I seemed to have been a curse
on  this world
For sometimes now, my soul has laid
In darkness
No hope of seeing the light
Even the sun has a hint of Devil in her
I could hear whispers, barely void!
Will this agony ever end?
Hatred did grow, day and night
And I watered it with my tears
I came face to face with my fears
My foes beheld and shine
Am alone friend, and the agony seems
Never ending.

Its deeper than the olden day slavery,
Because these days,the chains are unseen so getting help is difficult.
Souls imprisoned in fake bodies that need validation to feel fit enough to live. Modern day slavery.
Its spreading too fast,we might all fall victim. Feeling incomplete when you miss a trend that won't add any inch to your height nor value to your life; that's modern day slavery.
Its so normalised,its hard to realise its actually slavery.
Free yourself and take charge of your life!! Be who you are.

My enemies spread like the branches of tree,
But I manage sometimes to drain Mississippi With a straw
Hatred like burning inferno
Love is a scarcity
Like rain during summer
Tears is a necessity
Like water after meal
Death is an option
Like faith without fate

The pathetic woman,
Miserable than a clumsy man,
A widow far as I can reckon,
To her goodness never beckon,
She's without ecstasy,
Her dream turn out to be mere fantasy,
She lost her honor,
Overwhelmed with dolor.

So she seeks several sources and Lords with her heart,
She knew them not, never! Not on earth,
They made her believe all was necessary,
With lots of loads to carry.

She became a congregation,
Sitting helplessly without motion,
As she sobs and sobs with all her mind,
And cry and cry with all the ability she could find.

The church re-echo her petition,
Like a church favorite hymn,
All this seem like a kind of mimickery,
A real hymn,
Her blessings with a lot of imagery.

When my feet moved toward her,
She looks around from her chair,
She must be a widow,
And I was her husband’s shadow,
She seems barren,
Alas! Her son were caged like n hen,

Her husband alleged of treason,
And killed for that reason,
She now left with a hope,
He wish he could at least whisper “cheer up”
She needs a refined hope,
As she will one day drink from my cup.

The messenger since ages,
He hunted the path of our forefathers,
His call echoes through ages,
Never mind the tears of mothers!
He lies between light and darkness,
Especially when we strive to see the brightness.

If he visits me, how should I entertain him?
Will you morn me?
After I give up my soul to please him,
Will smoke fill the air as dirge from
Your lips?
Will you bury me?
Or only if the vultures spare me?

To my beloved maiden,
Thy sight I wish not so see tears,
To your soul not see Fears,
But to thy garment be black,
Your thumbs hold tight to the candle?
To thy bed you should cuddle.