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A wish sustained for years
Moments before it's fulfilled
I now wish for it to pass
Yet now it comes true, bringing with it tears

A wish I kept hoping upon
To come true for so long
It came, it did, but with a cost
Came with heavy interest on top of a loan

I'd rather wish for death now instead of what I already wished for
But then I fear I'll have to go through the usual struggle b/w love and war

A wish, I wish, never came true
A wish, I wish, I never wished for
A wish I didn't know would weigh upon me like the hammer of Thor
A wish, perhaps, that had been since long enough due

Wish for what you desire she had said
'Wish and it shall come true my dear'
Should I have known of her honesty before
I'd never wish for her love that came at the price of her head

Confusing, yes it does seem
Though must you find my cry unfathomable
Take my advice and tho you won't find it believable
No wish comes free of cost
Such graveyard of hopes, in a boulevard of dreams.

A cup of coffee
and a night of rain
To recall memories of the past
to pass the present in vain

Remembering all the moments
that together we shared
Drowning myself in laments
memories upon memories, layered

I wait for death to take me
And put an end to this pain
Till then..
A cup of coffee
In a night of rain.
موت خود مرنا چاہتی ہے۔
مگر اُسکی بےبسی دیکو، اُسکا صبر دیکھو۔
تم بےبس نہیں ہو لیکن، تم بھی زرا صبر کرلو۔

میں جانتا ہوں زندگی ابھی بے مقصد سی ہے، بے معنی ہے۔ اور مرنے کی خواہش ہے بہت۔
لیکن خواہشات کا مرنا ہی خُدا کی اصل عبادت ہے۔
تُم بھی اِس اِک خواہش کو ختم کرلو۔ صبر کرلو۔


Him: I want to die

Me: Death itself wishes to die
        But look at it's helplessness, look at it's patience
        You are not helpless though, but you too be patient

        I know that life is now purposeless, meaningless.
        And the desire to die is overwhelming.
        But the death of desires is the true obedience of God.
        So you too extinguish this desire (of death), be patient.
The poem is in Urdu.
Title - I want to die
The title is based on a question someone sent me anonymously. The poem (or whatever it feels like it is) was my answer to it.
I hope it helped that person and anyone who has the same thought in in their mind. Peace.
Carrying around our death scrolls
As we roam satisfactorily.
While on us, death trolls
Carefully inspecting our every move.
To its final days, life crawls.

Every moment passing by us
Leaving behind a shadow of past.
The future doesn’t hold any promise,
The present already outcast.

Do we lest, ponder at least?
To where’s the rush,
And where are we heading to?
Do we not, reflect albeit?

We carry our death scrolls,
Proudly so, such oblivious souls.
Sometimes I’m afraid to talk to you openly
Sometimes I’m afraid to to talk to you anyway
These are the times, that I most regret
These were the times, ilost my way

Sometimes I think, you might not like me
Sometimes I think, you may even hate
These are the times, that I most regret
These are the times, icurse my fate

But these sometimes led me to a decision
And these sometimes made me realize
That fate is nothing, but it’s Maktub– already written
then why this misery and why this suffocation?
You lost, ilost
baby we were never gonna win

live up, don’t yet give up
the lights were only dim

spark them, make them brighter
in this cave of darkness, hang them a bit higher

turn them on, make it shine
all these scattered thoughts shall soon align

all these voices, making noises
let them be quite

control this anger, give it direction
work hard, be polite

let’s fly, roll the dice
at least try, together we rise

quit this misery, escape the bars
Oh darling! the victory was always ours.
I've heard about this all my life,
   my Home in Beulah Land;
Those pearly gates and streets of gold,
   all formed by Your own hand.

I hear You've built a mansion there,
   a special place for me;
Its on a hill with greenest grass,
   beside a Crystal Sea!

Now Lord don't take this wrong at all,
   I'm thankful for all things;
But since I'm just a country boy,
   a mansions not my dream.

A little place, just outside town,
   surrounded by huge trees;
The sounds of nature at my door,
   would be morefit for me!

A broken down old picket fence;
   with squeaky wooden gates;
A muddy road not travel worn,
    to me would five star rate!

A tire swing hung 'round a branch,
   the buzz of honeybees;
A bed so full of daffodils,
   a few small dogwood trees.

A cozy place to call my Home,
   a noisy front porch swing;
No more I'd want for all of time,
   but place to hang my wings!

You see My Lord, not hard to please,
    I'm just a simple man;
A cabin made from Heavn'ly logs,
   now THAT'D be Glory Land!
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