I trusted you ever since we met
You even made me in debt
You took advantage of me,
You stabbed me,
But I couldn't see
I was only so oblivious
I am still so oblivious
I acknowledge it,
But I don't care about it

I was only six years old
I wasn't old-
Enough to learn that you-
Were taking advantage of me
I couldn't see-
The knife you-
Stabbed into me until you disappeared
I wasn't open-eared
I couldn't hear,
Until a clone of you came along
It's been so long
Since I heard
I can hear now,
I can trust you now

The cycle just repeats;
Day by day,
Bay to bay.

Two hands softly touch,
Smiles warm under starry skies,
Love so sweet and kind.

A wise man once said,
if you want to allow yourself a bread,
you need to know how to sell yourself
when he found my dusty grey shelf.

Young Me asked — “What is it that I need to sell,”

and he responded,

“sell your laugh
with a mouthful of pebbles in your mouth,
then sprawl your wings of a moth
and mimic a butterfly,”

“But, that's All I have left!” Young me screeched -
protecting the only vanity I possessed,
which I put on the market so cheap, so priceless
to those who never will to pay,
but I demanded the bidding too high
to those who gave me
a worthless charity,
a careless pity.

Blessed are the hearts,
that are pure, sweet, and naive
Who guard their innocence through hurdles of life
Not letting it be tainted,
Polluted,
Corrupted,
By manipulations and greed...
Blessed are the hearts
Whose sole indulgence are the joy of others,
Along, with, not alone
Withstand, not with temptations...

And yet curses,...
Cursed, or rather, condemned,
Condemed are those,...
Whose hearts are full of filths and self gratifications,
Who are ignorant on the sufferings of others,
In the name of "I'm jealous",
Of comfort, of ambitions,
Spitting nothing but contempt,
Showing different sides of one coin,
yet alone,
on one's face...
Them...
Shame...
For they would never know the beauty inside out,... nor peace,
nor true happiness...
Is it what you want little heart?...

She had no light to offer
For the man in the deep dark gutter
But she learnt to poke and drill holes
On her skin, bones and soul
He got his head above the water
And made his way out of the clutter
She longed for his momentarily hold
But he wants to touch and see her bold
Every curve and angle of her body
Was bruised, then rot slowly
Oh, her skin he strip and flay
Like she was an object to play
The holes, got bigger and not better
Ashamed, she let herself touch his *****
She was disgusted, tried to dispute
For making her a woman of ill repute
She thought he intended to leave poems
No, it was pitch black, monochrome
Life she was given of, left dying
Marks that she regret having
And she could not erase it all
No, no, no, it’s her downfall
Touch, it’s been said and done
She ran, and in her pocket was a gun
Quickly, she climbed in the gutter
Upholding the scarlet letter

Two sickly birds,
In their nest of salt,
And it's not their fault.
What do they know?

I don't hate you.
After all that we went through,
I never hated you.
—I thought I could never hate you.

But then again,
I thought I knew you.

I thought you were that sweet, selfless guy,
the guy that cared about me more than anything,
who said he'd never hurt me.
Who told me he loved me.

But if you really cared about me more than anything,
and loved me as much as you claimed you did,
then you wouldn't have hurt me like you did now.

I wouldn't be sitting here
with tears streaming down my face,
writing these poems to get out the feelings
I otherwise bury inside.

I could never hate the boy I thought you were.
But you're not that boy at all,
at least, not anymore.

And suddenly, as if waking from a child's dream,
I am thrown into reality,
not awoken softly by my mother's warmth
but startled and bewildered to find her not there.
I exit the hazy surrealness of midnight rendezvous,
and the disillusionment snakes its way around my heart.
As if struggling to find my breath or finding myself alone,
I am starkly confronted yet again with my naiveté.
I am transformed into that little girl who trusted so easily,
and now, it is not just disappointment but also shame
that, like a vapor, evades every corner of my being.
To have believed in a dream and my own competence,
I am still that foolish little girl who never learned.
Perhaps, the worst part of gullibility is the knowledge
that the fool and the fooled will always be you.

THEY broke into my storyline:
confections served were not so slight
still i missed out on YOU at first,
that trace YOU gave of sheer remorse
put that now in you head,
sweet THING!
my guilty pleasure feels like savoring.
a palate to transpire any doubts -
a skill of tiger on the prowl

it's the plot of a mindless fling,
i care for YOU to be within
though such acting's bound with letters' dire ******,
i see YOU TWO again to have my bliss

i read YOU out,
i spell YOU!
then write YOU down
i read YOU out,
i spell YOU,
then write YOU down

it's been a while i had my click
with all the fluff i cared to think
i thought this time WE may never part,
but YOU are in the line with change of heart

it's the plot of a mindless fling,
i care for YOU to be within
though such acting's bound with letters' dire ******,
i see YOU TWO again to have my bliss

i reread YOU out,
i spell YOU!
then rewrite YOU down
i read YOU out,
i spell YOU,
then write YOU down