The thought inside the mind,
the mind inside the thought

The seed inside the tree,
the tree inside the seed

The world inside you,
the you inside the world

The inner space to the outer space,
the outer space to the inner space

The dream inside the mind,
the mind inside the dream

The truth in the lie,
The lie in the truth.

Im sorry I ask of so much,
This heart of mine needs too much,
Hungry that i am,
My desire burns with every swallow,
I need more, more than you can ever give,
More than u will ever know.
My need for irrelevent things highlight the minutes of my day,
Every second without them a pain,
What to do?,
You are incapable of satisfying thirst of my indigent heart.
Yet, still, you try, you angelic creature , Yet you still try
Why, oh, why do you attempt of completing my requests,
When you know I can make this your lifes quest?,
Why do you try when you know of the end,
When you know a thankyou would not be said?,
I love you, yet still I burn you,
I scorch you with my tongue,
Yet still  your heart's melodic love is sung.
Thankyou Lord for blessing me with wonderful beings,
Who forgive the poisonous snake in my mouth,
Which lashes out again and again,
until a wish of mine is fullfilled.

Two girls there are : within the house
One sits; the other, without.
Daylong a duet of shade and light
Plays between these.

In her dark wainscoted room
The first works problems on
A mathematical machine.
Dry ticks mark time

As she calculates each sum.
At this barren enterprise
Rat-shrewd go her squint eyes,
Root-pale her meager frame.

Bronzed as earth, the second lies,
Hearing ticks blown gold
Like pollen on bright air. Lulled
Near a bed of poppies,

She sees how their red silk flare
Of petaled blood
Burns open to the sun's blade.
On that green alter

Freely become sun's bride, the latter
Grows quick with seed.
Grass-couched in her labor's pride,
She bears a king. Turned bitter

And sallow as any lemon,
The other, wry ****** to the last,
Goes graveward with flesh laid waste,
Worm-husbanded, yet no woman.

Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.

To,
All the flowers whose petals I have plucked,
If I only knew He never really truly loved,
To all the tyres I burned,
If I only knew they wouldn't change their minds ,
To all the trees I had cut down,
If I only knew my book wasn't to be published.

Therefore;
To all the mothers that cried because of me,
If I only held patience rather; when their Child bullied me,
To all my loved ones I say sorry,
If you only knew I could never change truly,
I'm sincerely sorry.

No,
To all the teachers I spoke behind,
No, You were never that; of an ingenious mind,
To all those friends I lost, because of my losing temper,
If I only knew, you weren't as forgiving as my mother.

If only,
All the loss my body had to bear,
And the Childish trinkets my body had to fear,
How heedlessly and needlessly wasted, were my tears,
I knew,
I'm deeply sorry.

To all my guides who thought I aimed at nothing but the best,
If they only knew how afraid I was of my everyday life test,
I'm but sorry.

She still lay hunched over,
It had all happened in a blur,
She tried not to recall,
But it was all she could do about,
What happened was;
A nightmare, devastation.
Her innocence corrupted, like the gum on the road
Under her nose.
It was happening
She had just become another victim,
A possibilty she had never phantomed,
She listened to her heart's rythum,
She wished for it to stop,
She tried and tried,
To wipe her tears,
To muffle her sobs,
To get up and run,
But all she could do was,
To think what he had done.

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
    Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
    Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
    Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
    Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
    Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
    Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.