You asked me to stand strong.
That I ground my foot to earth,
But how firm can my weak limbs hold on to these slippery grounds?
You asked me not to shed tears.
That I hold back my tears and be a man,
But for how long can the weak walls of eyelids hold back the stormy seas of tears from flowing out?
You said, I must show myself a man.
That what I feel always be faked,
But for how long can I fake strength and show might that I don't have?
Can I ask? Is it wrong?
To cry, admit weaknesses and seek help?
Must I always act unhurt, happy and strong even when I'm hurt, crying and weak?
We confide in you to keep that which their eyes must not see
You are a dress of confidence to us who embrace thee
The princes of Solomon always crave for us because of your wonders
If not for you, our hunters would assume our cracks to be our barrenness
Keep concealing and shielding us till they see the gold in us
With how sharp and deep you pierce, I'm sure you must have the sharpness and height of Goliath's spear.
No matter how many horrorful stories about you are told, nobody understands it until they have a personal feel of you.
Even when we tell them how we feel when you hit us, we remain the only ones who know how it feels to be crushed
You are almost like death - unknown until we cross the line.
Blessed are those who never met with you. But I wonder how much they would know about this life without an encounter with you.
Maybe every young man and woman must meet you sometime because if they choose well, they'd not leave bitter but better.
When you pass through a life, it feels like drinking a full keg of cold liquor mixed with broken glass pieces and more
Even chocolates are tasteless and love poems become meaningless once you arrive.
Your power can **** love, hope and joy and leave those who believed in them with momentary emptiness.
Though you once in a while give the hint that you'd be passing, you mostly come unexpectedly to do your worst.
You are like the night that replaces the sun and feels our eyes with tears so we can't see the stars of night.
You see, those who are dead know they are dead but those whose hearts are broken never know exactly what it is they are going through.
Broken hearts don't heal, even when they come together, the scar remains like a tribal mark under makeup.
IF U LOOK INTO MY EYES, YOU'D SEE A NICE MAN.
MY SMILES SAY EVERYTHING IS FINE.
WHEN I WALK, YOU'D SEE A CONFIDENT YOUNG MAN.
MAYBE WHEN I SING YOU'D LOVE IT.
BUT WHEN YOU RAISE MY SHIRT, YOU'D SEE THE BRUISES
IF U KNEW MY STORY, YOU'D KNOW MY SMILES ARE FOR A THERAPY
YOU WOULD KNOW I WALK THE WAY I DO JUST TO STAMP DOWN THE PIERCING PINS OF LIFE.
I ONLY SING BECAUSE NOBODY WOULD LISTEN IF I JUST TALKED
The wall was walking and the rivers stopped flowing,
Life stopped and the rocks grew bigger,
But the dead beats of my heart told me I was alive.
Nobody was speaking and only ghosts were murmuring from afar,
I was still in yesterday when tomorrow bypassed me.
My keys failed to unlock my doors and my loads grew heavier.
My dreams went behind me and failure beckoned from before me
To run didn't seem wise; my limbs seemed to fail me,
Even if they hadn't failed, to where do I run?
For the door remained locked and the keys still useless.
Quitting seemed wise, but the voices of my numberless dependents cried;
So I looked on them, smiled at them to give them hope
Then I turned, walked and cried my heart out unending,
My lips seemed sealed but my heart spoke to my God
Her palm is rough and soles of her feet cracked,
Her waist so stiff, yet strong,
Bending and rising beneath the sun's blows,
Yet her smiles as wide as a queen's,
Always adorned in tattered fabric 'graced with daily sweat'.
She didn't love it, but she must do it;
Waking to meet another beautiful day of 'peanut hunt'.
She has many mouths and hopes looking up to her,
Almost like a curse, she must hurt alone to give them joy.
Her labour yields much but she earns only peanuts.
Pruning, spraying, harvesting and processing all year,
Only to share at a loss with the powerful men.
She can't quit this trade though she hates it.
She does all, not to free her self,
But to grant her seeds a break from the curse;
That old foe - poverty always before her,
Tho uncertain her seeds would make her proud,
She never returns home till the day's work is done.
The best remains our desire but the fire that sends our feet and hands to the worst keeps burning
Sometimes, our hearts get connected to the holies, but from nowhere an asp lets in a venom drop
We train our minds and hearts to be fit soldiers for His army but then we quit once the snares invite
We almost cried the other day to be saved from this wretched cloak of a body but we seem to love it too
The battle remains fierce the more we choose to keep moving up,
A forward step is met with the threat to quit moving,
The desire to give in seems foolishly reasonable,
We dwell there and deem progress arduous,
The highway robber grabs our joys,
He plants a fast-growing seed,
A seed of fear,
It crowds all our self-worth and faith and teaches us that we can’t do right.
Who will answer with an arm strong enough to slay this liar?