Resting my brain
Despite restless strain
Hard to refrain
Even harder to change
Easy to be swayed
By constant delays
Saying this way
Will work today
Of course didn’t
So you make  
Another promise
Broken again

By the good grace of the gods, those who have dared to taint my face with a welt, shall receive divine punishment - and not by those who are deemed mighty high above or the denounced who dwell at a plane below mantle and core. But by me, solely me, without maledictions or the intangible, me. Smote by my might. I am not a dictator, nor a man filled with ill-intent, though my words will be carved upon stone and actions dignified in blood. For me to be assaulted in such a haphazardly manner. As a conclusion to you actions know that death is your prometheus, death to your people, death to your land, death to your cattle. My violence exceeds the confines of your cranium, in a similar fashion my anguish extends across the lands; it will agonisingly, crucifying in arduity, mundane if it has to chase and chastise you to the proverbial end of the world. So, to whatever omnipotence you pray to (or do not), it is futile, you will be reprimanded and dealt with promptly, death to all those you love, death to the vermin you shelter in your home by the vignette oil-lit-lamp and the capacious pillow you so pompously lay your head. -

death to you.

Those beautiful animals
Were born
They grew and
They were used
For chariot racing
Then suddenly
They died and
Here we are
2000 years later
Marveling at their skeletons

This is one lonely road,
A gray place with no fond memories.

Yet still, a place I know very well,
The broken stones have stories to tell.

This is one dreary path,
A broken face with no kindness left.

Yet, this is where the good men are buried,
When they fade from light and die.

One fifth of my day
was spent on precalculus.
I want to die now.

Consider this:
at its core, a ghost is typically described as little more than a restless spirit.
Given this description, it's not too much
of a stretch of the imagination
to suggest that you don't have to die
to be a ghost.
After all, things change every day.
It would be concerning if you didn't feel lost or anxious at some point. The question then becomes "what do you do if you feel this way?" The answer: remember who you are and all it took to get you to where you are today.

They:
Why do you fell for him

She:
The soul that spot my fake smiles,
And stared deep down my turmoiled heart asking,
"Whats that bleeding scar behind your silly play!"

~Varsha Srinivasan

i hope you know I always was,
in my head with a million guns,
spraying leads and speaking duds.