Six minutes past Twelve
It was the fourth time

She opened her window 

And waited for 

The Bulgars to enter her place

She had this queer desire 

Of being annihilated 

And those rustic apparels

Were of no use 

The world had gone ahead

She lost pace 

She couldn’t possibly
cover up 
In those two minutes 

Of disgrace.

She drowned in her past 

Because the hope of 
keeping up to the present
killed her

And the promises 
which were about to 

Be proven false

Would make people hate her

And her expectations 

Which she considered a dream 

Appeared to be a major threat
For her existence 

Those changes falsified her world. 

She smoked a joint 

Looked behind 

Consumed herself in the 
Hypocrisy of today 

And passed away.

I  Wasn't even
Alive when
You started placing before
Me
Those conundrums
Which captivated
My real self
And forced me
To blame storm a different
Set of people
Because
I did not know
The meanings
And I did not get the
Opportunities
All I had
Were a set of
Quixotic claims
And false beliefs
And I was beginning
To fall in
The shadow
Of hypocrites.

I wouldn’t mind

Going through 

Those bits and pieces
Scattered like stardust 

In my mind 

Moving collectively 

With a desire 

To capture 

All the other 

Unearthly things 

And bring them in 

Like the tide 

On the ebb

Enrapturing my soul

And swallowing the 
Darkness 

Into the shadows 

But under the 
Crepuscular light

All that happens 

Is decided by your deeds

And not your dreams.

Bipolar
There’s this label 

Which moves everywhere
with her 
Now and then 

Distracting people

And 
Making her life miserable

Because they think

It’s something different 

She’s something different 

There has been a breakdown
She’s mentally sick 

But do you listen to her soul 

Asking people

If they’re not different 

From one another 

Or are they not

Allowed to express themselves  

Everybody is different 

And they prove their existence

In their own ways

She has to behave

As if she has something 

On her conscience 

Something lurks every second 

In the corner of her mind 

With a sublime confidence 

Of acceptance 
But
Anhedonia comes alive with the words coming

Out one by one or rather 

All at once 

Incomprehensibly prefect 

But this label 

Those pills

That prescription 

Only swallows her

From within.

Last night 

She accidentally

Walked to her balcony 

And looked outside 

She saw her soul 

Wandering 

Being sabotaged 

By demonic creatures 

Molested by those unholy beings 

But all she could do was 

Stand and stare 

Scrutinise and regret 

Because then she realised

She let it go

7 years ago

When she 

Questioned her existence 

And acted in an immoral way.

There’s so much more 
I could do.

If I could 

Scatter the seconds 

Like the grains of sand.

If the minutes would pass 

Like a ray of light

Passing through a prism

Breaking into 

Those seven colours

Lighting every corner. 

If I could 

Multiply the hours 

With the innumerable 

Thoughts in my mind .

And calculate

To find

I still haven’t got enough

I still need time