He's not
kind,
caring,
selfless,
warm.

She's not
talented,
helpful,
transformative,
unique.

They're not
wanted,
needed,
loved,
known.

They're human.
And we're exactly the same.

In the end of the day
Who's there for your lonely thoughts
Not to put a blame on anyone
But i’m the one alone on this loft
Made me feel so selfish for thinking theres no one
But truly there really is no one.

and although I post them,

I only every write these poems

for me .

Jo kal mere sath sahmati ke
Rangon ke kalaap sang hansi baant rahe the

Wo hi aaj hansi ka mohra
mujhe bana rahe the

Mujhe apni batane ki sudh kaha
Hansi mujhe aap mein aa rahi
Duniya ke iss
Jane anjane nasheeley baagaan ke beech
astitva jiska khud hi dhuaan hai

Kal gar jo mujhe rota hua tumne dekh liya
Toh mat puchhna matlab uss nazare ka
Wo nazara, jo meri ruh ko sula khud
Ek naatak dikha raha hoga
Iss badan ka.

Ohhhh you can lead a frown.
But don’t expect your crown.
For we’re not easily snowed.
Cause we know you’re  known.
Tough, you can pick a fight. Ha.
Weak, you are insecure.
We. Know. Who you are.

Please, be back soon.
Honesty. Awaits you.
Generous, we like to be.
So gracious, we should see.
You Lie, behind your back. Foolish.
We. Know. Who you are.

Ohhhh, you can lead a sin.
But all equal, and forgiven’
Seek, halfheartedly.
You’ll only exist, and die existentially.
For we know you’re known.
Feel, free to be.
Reality, you can’t see.
We. Know. Who you are.

Embrace, humanities.
Disgrace in your humanity.
But who are we to judge you?
And to say what we say is true?
Leave in distaste, find a new pace.
For who are we to strike you down?
You do that to yourself anyway.

I am driven to be an artist,
I can't be a good husband, a father and an artist, as each would require my complete attention.

At most, I am reasonable and a part time lover, but for another to love me would be an act of generosity; to be a my keeper something I wouldn't  wish upon anyone.
But here are the facts.

When we are breathing,
we share in our breath.

People are self-seeking,
and unless we play with
pragmatics, we can’t help it.
Yet we are helpless in
how bounteous we are.

When we are breathing,
we share in our breath,
and when we die,
we share in our death.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

Brick by brick
I put up my wall
People peek and wonder what's wrong
They hand them over
One by one
Ignoring their cause
I look for foundation
There's none at all
Ultimately, being my own flaw