There are times,

When our soul wears out.
and no matters in the world, could heal it.

and then there are times,

when we are greeted with loneliness,
But then they stay,
far longer than we thought.

loneliness and sadness;
are toxic.

it is toxic in a way,
that as bad as it is.
It haunts you;
it frightens you;

and yet at one point of time,
you get used to it.

you get addicted to it.
because at one point of time,

they are all that will ever be your company.

It is not a poem, but a mere thoughts
A question that screams misery
For every living soul, blessed be
From a tired human being,
In a suffering spree.

She says, in tears.
    "Do i have to remind you,
That i have feelings?
That i can break down?
That i can be tired?
That the heart i have,
is capable of feeling hurt?"

Another tear streams down,
through her pale face.
She speaks, softly yet
miserably desperate.

"That i'm also,

       A human being?"

The lights dingles,
Above the head of a two
Who's in love
Who's after one another

But as the lights get dimmer
And the space grow further,
Between them

They were in love
Yet,
They fall apart

They have one mind
In history,
Politic,
Art,
Poem,
Love,
But never one mind
In priority.

He has an eye for the future,
And she,
She just long for him, in the present

They are:
The two matching puzzles,
The two pair in love,
Yet,
They are the souls that never meant to be together.

For each of her sleepless night,
a day passes, without she realized.
Night calms her,
more than anything could ever.
The absence of noises,
of people,
but never the absence of him.

His imagery grows stronger,
each and every night.
She misses him,
each and every night.
She longs for him,
each and every night.

She knows he did too,
she wished he did too.

The pair were off to different path.
They are selfless,
unaware of their raging ego.
Of the burning love,
of the passionate love, youngs pursue.

They do not seek love that made them tremble,
that made their knees week,
or made their heart flutter.

They, now,
they seek for home,
in each other.

Home where there are only them,
in which silence, never translated
​into distance.

She,
Were bright, and watered,
With the benevolent adoration
She blooms, unwithered.
But only at first.

Then she were glued,
To an unrealistic standard.
Of beauty,
Of what she will become.

Of other people,
To other people,
With other people.

to love,
but never loved.
to give,
but never receive.

to everything i have felt, touched, seen;
throughout,
with and without.

what am i?
why am i sad?
why is my shoulder strained?
what causes it?

myself.

life has been a round,
big and messy hole.
empty, but loud;
unfair, and never will.

thoughts. thoughts. thoughts.
think. think. think.

here i am sitting,
with energy drink,
empty stare to nothing.

and sometimes i wonder,
when does death sound this sweet?