Happy Teacher’s Day.
Thank you for being an amazing teacher.
But too bad, that I’m just an average student.
If you want to get into someone’s head,
Have a sneak peek on slices of his life,
Get into his room.
Because personal space don’t lie.
You meet two kinds of people
The one that would ask you to dim your light.
The one that would want you to shine even bright.
Choose to be with the latter,
I hope you know that already.
I really do hope so.
It’s funny how
certain faces you see,
places you’ll be,
aroma of the air around you,
a random déjà vu,
how familiar the food tastes,
the warmth of embraces,
voices and noises
can take you to
a specific place, time, a moment
in your life, long forgotten.
“It’s a privilege I take to reconnect myself with the idea of a home, that only exists in my memory now.”
Oh, I remember that happy child.
The one who believed that simplicity was the utmost delight.
The one who was not afraid to fall, fall and fall again until she could get up on her feet right.
The one who had the thirst to explore or unravel the secrets of even the darkest night.
The one who never shied away from anything and everything that made her heart light.
The one who was filled with hopes and dreams of meeting her shining knight.
The one whose smile was bright and laugh had a hint of daylight.
The one who wasn’t afraid to tell the world from what’s wrong or right.
The one who wanted to conquer hearts, to tell them countless stories of her might.
The one who never gave up on herself or the ones she loved without putting up a fight.
And tonight at the silence of these wee hours I sit and write
Wondering whatever happened to
that happy child.
Also when will she be back?
If I'm dead tomorrow
I want my body to be laid peacefully
on soft green grass.
I want vines to run through my veins.
I want flowers to grow out of my heart
and bloom across my lungs.
I want to create a garden with the aroma
that reminds you of the earth kissed by rain.
With every breath I take,
I want to create a new life.
I want to paint a new picture.
I want to design a new symphony.
Through them, I want to see
the moving clouds, passing birds,
And slow dance with the wind,
gaze at countless stars
and breathe, once again.
Till you decide to walk all over me,
grind me, and smother me
back to the dirt where
I shall lay awake and alive,
"I want to be buried alive by love, by hate and by everything in between."
I miss waking up to the smell of your delicious pancakes.
Sweetly covered in maple syrup.
And the sweetest smile you served with it.
Now all I can wake up to
is to the smell of burnt breakfast.
Sugarcoated with cooked up lies.
That I keep feeding myself to stay alive.
“What did I ever do to deserve this?”