He's damaged,
               Unfixable it seems
What others would call
                  nightmares
       Are his sweetest dreams
                And sometimes
  He takes his emotions
                               to
                            extremes
       It's so blatantly obvious
  When he finally
           breaks down
                    And screams
That the world
          brought him to his knees

                  He's a broken spirit.
       And I just don't know
   If my love
              can mend his soul
Or if my broken pieces
        Are enough to make
                                      him
                  ­                      whole.
       And if I use what
                       little I have left
To put him back together
                Won't that just
                                  leave me
      In a shattered pile of emotions
                   *forever?

Hatred
Grows
Thorns;
Love blossoms!

Bangshi looked at the rolling gold before him.

Not a day would be without two square meals this year,
the surplus produce would earn him good money.

It was then his eyes fell on the thin little girl.

She belonged to somewhere else
always seeking something from the sky
showing little but her ribs jutting from dark skin
and if she ever swam her limbs in the wind
she would run up to the pond
to catch the reflections changing with the hourly light.

Her home wouldn’t see harvest this year
as her father had been ill for months
that could only mean starvation for the family.

Bangshi followed her eye to the sky
autumn blue without a speck of cloud
but for a spot of rain gathering in a corner of his eye.

What if instead of selling the surplus
he shared it with Malini’s family?

No one, not even the trees, or the flowers can then say that there is nothing more beautiful than falling in love, and nothing crueller than having your heart broken. I used to think falling in love was no big deal, it was just exchanging whispers and kisses that didn't really mean anything. The folly of youth, really.

I kind of hate you, for being able to make me fumble with my words so easily around you. I hate how you make my very insides burn with warmth whenever I see you. Is it a blessing or a curse, to be so attached to someone?

As the saying goes, "All good things come to an end." Sure enough, it did. You got tired of me and it was no surprise to me that I woke up to an empty bed and a half-empty closet and a hurriedly scribbled note on the coffee-table saying, "I can't do this anymore." It was scary, how five simple words put together shattered me into fragments so tiny.

But ******* it, I should have known from all those red flags that were so obviously waving in front of my stupid, dumb face. It was so ******* obvious, how you were so much more distant (red flag), how you rolled your eyes and clenched your fists every time I complained about a little thing (red flag), how you never worried about me anymore (red flag), how a scowl found its way onto your face whenever I asked you how I looked (red flag). It wasn't any surprise when I found you gone and far away from me that morning.

It's raining now, and I’m cold and sad without you. I'm staring into blank space, the occasional clap of thunder brings me back to reality for a while, and I drift off again mindlessly. It's horrible, feeling like this. My throat is dry and sore, and it's somewhat like you are my water. Or my light, because I'm blinded and you are (were) everything I see (saw). Come back. I don’t understand. Please, just come back. Please.

This rain gets heavier and harder, and true enough, there is nothing crueller than having your heart broken.

He painted me with the faith
Color  to make me as his wish
I was so glad he believe me
I would be real in his sketch

He hold me, croon for me
Dance and smirk with me
He comes close to share his emotion
I feel proud as I shine in his passion

Hey!!!

Where are you going leaving me alone?
I could not be here without your shadow
I feel suffocation in this canvass
I would be scared in this dimness

I am so isolate without your hug
You make me smile blush me up
Now I can't be happy nor can cry
As the tears will take identity of my
The only thing you left for me
The only thing I can carry for you
That makes me feel alive in this canvass

If there's a way to dig a little deeper into
       a new layer of skin, tap into
something in our bones that hasn't already
       been analyzed and speculated by
doctors under bright white lights on cold
       impersonal tables surrounded by
an army of masked, gloved and
       sanitary conscious individuals-
a method of existing that hasn't
       been romanticized and isn't cliche,
I'd really like to know.

       Because in vicious turbulent cycles I'm falling head first
for things that have been worshipped
       so many times in trance-like
moments of adolescent anguish and
       pretenses of solitude seeking introverts that lie
to themselves cause they don't have
       the guts to do it to others.

Who the hell is alright behind a smile masking a cringe?

       And all the tropes idolized and hymns
murmured by Sad folk
       don't really make you feel special anymore
cause you've lost your individuality
       by stepping into yet another trap.

But then again hating all things has long ago been branded as
       valueless, when in fact
values are the only things you're really searching for.

I couldn't wake up by a cappuccino today
Took me a red bull, one pink and purple stacker - from stop n shop. And a cup of coffee, Now I'm ******* my head off, hands are shaky, eyes tired, got more energy than an American stripper. And trying to ease down, just not happening. Like Chong said to cheech- You took the wrong stuff man, the wrong stuff,the wrong stuff. This bites!

He's afraid of rejection
so he doesn't try
He's afraid of the bullies
so he doesn't cry
He's afraid of isolation
so when they ask, he lies
He's afraid of his teachers
afraid they will pry
He's afraid of his family
of the if's and why's
He's so afraid
of what they might think
that he's forgot
to live his life