To someone like me, it has always been easy to pen down the pain
than to just dump it in the violently flowing rivers of the past
and forget it ever happened, it's been easy to etch every bit of it on the rocks
everyday and admire each and every melancholic tear it brought
it has been sour sweet painting every ugly scar and every bruise
and admire the blemishes on dirtied canvas than let heal
those grotesque wounds without any memo to remind me
because to me the hurt has but been an adventure on the map of my destiny
I've sailed past hard waves, I've gone through dark oceans
to both poles of the sphere and witnessed how cold this world can be
and I've even juxtaposed the north pole to the south
I've climbed the mountains I thought impossible,
hiked even the steepest of cliffs,sometimes fallen and fractured
I've gone against caution and whence my ribs ruptured
healed and painted the despondent healing process yet gone
ahead to find fresh memory to paint, to write, to etch.
I've not wasted my mistakes, not a single tear has gone for nothing
for some should learn from mistakes of those who lived before them
and if life is too short and uncertain to live to tell
let the marks on the rocks at the pinnacles tell the story,
let the sad painting on the canvas do,the sculptures
let the cacographs make sense to eyes keen enough to squeeze out some sap of wisdom
I've not cried, bruised, battled or stumbled for nothing
it is not for nothing I've lived my life the way I've lived
with no manual or mentor to point out the rough edges
the looming pitfalls and risks of living in the twilight zone on the fringes
it's not by mistake that the ship of life is rudderless to most of us
every bruise, every mistake, every imperfection has its page
just as every century, every decade and every millennium has its age
I often write about the uncertainty I live so that someday
someone will be grateful I spared some time to say
that those who didn't err,who didn't whimper,
who didn't have the luxury of looking struggle in the eye
and walk side by side with her didn't really know the truth about life
because it's from the tears that comes the beautiful smile
after the blunder that lies the precious stones of a mile
after the pain that comes the long awaited gain
for the star filled clear blue skies always show after the stormy rain
I pen my pain time and again, because laughter's easily forgotten
but the pains are like plastics, so close to impossible seeing them rotten