Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apoorva Mar 4
And when I say,
Don't love me.
I want you to know..
That it'll will hurt
You and I
And I don't want
You to feel it.
What it's like to
Have everything and
I may survive,
Cause I always have.
But you may drown
And never reach shore.
And I don't want
For another soul
To just lay to waste
Decaying in the sorrows
Of someone else's
Apoorva Mar 4
Long live the revolution
said a rebel once
Agitate against
Fight for the right
Fight for the oppressed
But ****..
We are *******
On every outcast who stood
And stared back at 'god'
**** GOD
We outrage
More than ever
Fight with fingers
To start a revolution
From the bed
Hatred is easy
It sells fast
Actually we're lazy
So, it'll forever last
The need to be right
Is no longer true
Only thing you need
Is a lie
A ******* lie
To confuse the believers
Flip the rage in a cage
How can
The revolution live long
When the revolution
Is nothing but evolution
To a false solution
Without conclusion.
Apoorva Mar 4
She looks down the street
Desperate for another shot at the night
She likes the danger
And brings home every stranger
Not for the thrill
Not always at their will
But what else can she do
Her heart still has no clue
Apoorva Mar 2
The idea of people is an insult on human condition.
There's nothing left in my heart than shear disillusion for those who say I'm your friend.
What does a friend means anyway?
Just an equally dissatisfied consumer of society?
I don't know sometimes.
I just wish we could erase memories like we erase our names from chalkboards.
Easy, Swift and effective.
Then again what to do with this beautiful life that is nothing but a bad waste of time.
I wish we could commit suicides while existing, because it's too much for us to take pity of others and their sympathy.
Opinions and questions which are as useless as sweaters in Summers.
It never goes away, it always haunts behind the curtains. Always ready to embrace me when I'm even a bit satisfied with myself.
What is this?
Who is it?
I don't know, and I don't even wish to know.
I'm better at being worse, there's this strange comfort in knowing that you can't be anymore disappointed and dissatisfied than you already are.
Existence is for sissies who sleep in their bedrooms till they're 80.
I'd rather just disappear and refuse to be anything else than what I already am.
Not a poem, but poetry.
Apoorva Apr 2018
Does it really matter, if
You remember my sweet innocence..
When I'm getting high
And the sky is falling
And I'm searching for your
I feel like I've been living in a shell..
Where nothing really matters much..
But I'm getting high..
And I'm getting low..
With someone new..
Still wondering..
And escaping through..
These broken paths..
And those broken homes..
So, if you're getting lost..
And feel like shifting through..
This mysterious life...
That we're cursed to follow..
We can be getting high..
Under the moon..
In the hallways of an old school..
Don't be afraid..
I'm here for good..
Apoorva Mar 2018
First thing you see.
A vast radiant moon,
Staring at you since eternity.
Smile and feel the shallowness
Of the dark beautiful night.
Feel the wind in your hairs
Whispering the songs of the dead.
And wait,
Your time will come
Just before the morning sun.
So, you better run and run
Your time will come..
Apoorva Mar 2018
I'm so sick of doubt
The miserable life
That we all lead
And the lies
That we feed
Our children with
Same old story
Everyday and every night
Chained to our jobs
We are not free
From our own thoughts
Which leads nowhere
But Wow.
I'm so happy
Cause I know the truth
And the wise words
Of prophets and saints
That someday
This will end
In my grave
I'll be at peace
And only then
I will be free
And I will forever be
In your memory
In your memory.
Next page