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Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
I walk down the street tonight
The city does not sleep anymore
I can see tall buildings still alive
Nothing seems the same anymore
These streets are empty yet filled with new faces
Hearts are cold yet burning to ashes
I am walking down the street
I don't know anymore
My city is lost or maybe
I am, God knows.
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
Painting, for me, is like making love. I paint when I am frustrated. I paint with a chaotic mind. It leaves me tired but at the end of the day, I feel satisfied.
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
Let's play with paints tonight
He'll paint the skies,
scenes breath-taking
while I'll paint the lies
(and both will make some beautiful paintings)
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
i found myself walking towards you blindly
there was no end, there was no start
just you and my stupid heart.
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
Life is short. That is what they all say. We all are going to die, someday. It’s all true. It’s all okay. Imagine that stranger girl you meet every day in the bus stops coming one day. Imagine the guard you see every day on the gate stop being there one day. Imagine the class’s loser disappears without anyone knowing. Imagine your cranky neighbour stops coming out in the street one day. Imagine the people around you start disappearing one by one. Imagine you lose someone close to you all of a sudden. Imagine you are left alone with no friend, no stranger, and no loved one to give you a shoulder. Imagine. Just imagine once.
Now imagine again. Imagine smiling at that stranger girl you meet every day and making her smile back before she dies. Imagine thanking the guard you see every day on the gate before he dies. Imagine helping the class’s loser before he disappears forever. Imagine not shouting back and forgiving the cranky neighbour on the street before he leaves everyone. Imagine telling a close one that you love them before you lose them all of a sudden. Imagine you are left alone but with memories, peace, and satisfaction of doing the dead good in their life.
We tribute the dead, we cry for them, we remember them, and we love them but we never seem to care about the living. We never make them feel that we need them until one day we lose them.
Imagine. Imagine again. Imagine one day you die. Imagine if you had not been nice to anyone who would show up on your funeral? Who would shed a tear and cry? Imagine how would you feel leaving someone with harsh memories and words that cannot be taken back? Imagine will your soul be at peace knowing all those people you have hurt? Imagine will you wish for another chance at life?
You have a life, right now. And so does the people around you. Imagine before someone dies.
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
i am not a person
i am not a thing
i am a path, a way of living
i am a set of rules to follow, a religion to believe
i am a world changing idea, a beautiful dream
i am a genre of another dimension,
a painting with another meaning
i am not a person
i am not a thing
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