Some times
We freeze
We stop living
We stop thinking
We become blank

We forget our surroundings
We become blind
We forget to remember
We fail to react

We die momentarily
In dark space
We come across
Such small deaths many times
In our lives
Especially when whom we consider
So dear and near
Depart us …



Seems like we are lost for ever,
even when we are in the midst of a crowd
When we lose the energies of those who are nearby
When we fail to connect

We feel the emptiness of the complexities that surround us
The work that has been done, remaining to be done
Does it really matter what we do?
Or what we live for?

Does it really matter that we live?
In the vast timeline of the universe
Where do we stand?
The infinitely  negligible
Portion of the man in the entire universe?

the people here do not stand
for the sky has fallen—

now, they crawl beneath
crumpled edifice and shattered glass
moaning trees and long-dead birdsong—

now, they crawl beneath their own skins
and try to remember
when they last saw the sun—

I'm the black sheep
I'm the outcast
And I'm the reason people don't come over to the house
I kick and I buck
I don't fall in line
Nothing I do is good enough for this family of mine

I once blended in
But then I got rejected
Slowly turning my life
In a different direction
I am the black sheep of my family of seven
I'm unique
Special
Distinctively Distinct
I am the peculiar one
The unusual one
The idiosyncrasy of the group

I am the daughter that can not be accepted
So I live in rejection

Leaves
remind trees
of all the things
they can't be.