If I am gone  
vanish like pieces
into the atom.

It ain’t complain
lets drawback
spur in rhythm.

You say
that you're hurt.
That you seek
a fair choice.
Dear one,
even a flower wilts.
When the sun undresses it,
desperate for the maniacal love making;
and the bees **** the honey.
The petals turn dry
when the nectar leaves.
And so it rests on the ground.
Open and wasted;
thus enjoys an eternal sleep.

All you've got is problems,
Your 'friend' said this,
Your mom is lame,
You woke up late,
In your house,
In your bed,
And your hair just couldn't be tamed,
Your free education is stupid,
Who needs to use their brain?
You can't bring yourself to do something,
To try and make a change,
All you do is whine and whimper,
How lucky you are to be able to complain.

I have to sit quiet,

Wait for the wind

To blow away my tears before they fall.

I have to keep watch

On what I say, what I think.

Even in my sleep, I can’t betray myself.

Gulp each cry, each word I speak,

To be dropped off on a paper no one reads.

Everyone wants a rock to hold onto.

A quick mire, no one needs.

For what do I owe

This heartbreaking happiness?

This eternal river of tears?

For my love, my ego and my fears.

Who can I turn to?

Who can I blame?

For these sad affairs and my sorry state.

My story is better unwritten.

My sorrows untold.

People are fed up of giving sympathies after all.

Bound by the choices, by free will, I made.

I do not have the liberty to complain.

What does the future hold for me?
Sometimes I believed it will be fine
Writing made me spit the viruses
That burned me half my life, hatred
On everything I found bitter around

Killed my realness as a growing person
Now, enjoyment still hurts inside
Watching birds fly beside me
And never landing on my hands
Should I trap and catch one, to love?
Obvious, I said I never felt cooler

Complaining issues seemed whining
Naked truths will find their way up
Through the fogged lies and covers

Thundered cloud, drops falling!
Here the rain, o rain ! Kids began shouting.

Frogs start dancing ‚ hollow steams overflow.
several bossomed‚ barren land get glow.

Far from it‚ a lady who dwelt in hut‚
Moaning‚ pleaded to God‚ to cease it up.

Her tears eulogize her sorrow‚
The grain now vain which she'd borrowed .

Tatter shelter is leaking‚
Her kids start weeping.

She cursed to the averse rain ‚
The scudding drifts  and extreme pain.

Sudden‚ rain-storm abated‚ the sun began gleaming.
A saint consistently stared her‚ come her nearing.

"What you have lost? trifles ! Which was not yours ‚
Nor the God's Havoc ‚your turpitude make you poor".

God doth need to menace His child's treasures,
you are own responsible for your laments and pleasures.

The Hell and Heaven are not in world,
All have to suffer sooner or later,
If God is the Destructor, than who is the Creator?

all they do is complain,
that life is such a pain.
all these things in vain,
please just refrain.