The tears uncried,
The respect left behind;
Shame visible on face
No, this is not just a phase.
Oh, the humiliation!
It cannot be borne any more.
Will the soul give up?
Can't say for sure.
It fell on me-
The thunder,
**And I got buried
For someone else's blunder.

I'll sit there all alone,
Hoping you'd join me in my zone
I'll listen to you,
Hoping you'd hear my truth just like few
I'll walk with you through your darkest times,
Hoping you'd wander in my thoughts and mind
Will you remember me?
When I'm gone .
Will you miss me?
When you're lost.
What if I promised you
That I'll never leave you alone?
Would you still bother
To forget me not?

Mondays were not that tough,
Although each day was pretty rough.
I knew a lot of people,
and my experience there was not feeble.
Seldom did I get bored,
Smiles were not often forced.
I wanted to be home soon even then,
But my face was never ashen.
Saturdays were the Fridays,
Homework was not an enigmatic maze.
Just yesterday it feels,
Was my first day of school;
Today, I am sitting in front of a desktop,
Trying not to be a fool.
Insults were forgotten in a blink of an eye,
In the crowd of people, now I am asking, "who am I?".
Target of the day was to win a game,
Not to chase a deadline, or escape some shame.

Why do we have to have a rebellious soul?
Perhaps to blame life for taking a toll.
It's not easy to go with the flow,
Specially, when against you, the wind would blow.

I absorbed,
Blotted misery,
Lapped with eyes,
Soaked-up transgressions,
Mopped-up history,
Was steeped in trials,
Ingested triumphs,
And truly assimilated.
But the ground is saturated,
My prints fill
With the brine
Squeezed out.
I am the salt on the earth,
Parched and cracked.
You preferred candyfloss;
I dripped the last drop.

I was exhausted of sitting in the car,
In traffic jams at noon.
Travelling a distance too far
In an attempt to reach soon.

Glad I was home when I expected,
I started telling my Mum about the day.
I continuously blabbered,
Not giving her any chance to say.

As I was done speaking,
She asked if I could come with her,
"Sorry, I can't", I  said after thinking,
Shopping isn't something that makes me feel better.

"It's the grocery to be bought", she said,
Hoping that I might budge ,
I denied again,
And so she struck a bargain:
"I was thinking we could have sweet buttermilk."
I heard without lifting my head,
and with a child-like grin, I began to trudge.

I can control my desires well,
But I am a foodie with a sweet tooth.
I'd be in heaven, I can surely tell,
If I have book, couch and food.

"Choose a shop before we are way past it,
It was fun today", she said, smiling.
Isn't this what we live for?
It is the time we spend, and not the lure.
I was unknowingly overcome with guilt,
And we reached home, while I was still thinking.

Sometimes, I have a strong urge to write;
One fleeting thought in my mind,
Eager to become a poem on paper.
At times, I am able to calm it down,
Save the thought for later;
But often comes the moment,
When the vessel is full,
Brimming with words,
Longing to ink the paper,
And become sentences.
I can feel the quiver of my heart
As I reach for the notebook.
The grip at the pen,
More confident and firm.
That's what happens to me,
When I sit down to write.
How about you?
**Do you feel it too?