If we had to trace the natural orders,
I should be a split right in the middle, right?
A man of flesh and blood, not stone
Who is made from the DNA of my parents.
I wonder though,
How much have I taken from my parents?
How much of their cells I have inside of me?
Whose DNA dominates my being and
Still makes me the man I'm today
and the one I am becoming?
Or I'm just nothing like any of them?
Am I as gentle and shy as my mother is
Or as reckless and tough as my father is?
Is the fiber of my being built as both of them or
am I built in my own unique instincts?
Who's in my blood?
Who's in my DNA?
Am I as humble and gracious as
My parents are, if so which ones?
I am made out of flesh and blood
Yet, nobody can surely tell me
My exact DNA markups and
What's in my blood
As I am created from two images
But standing as a brand new breed
And high hope wishes
Doping up on addition
Disguised and good conviction
To lie to the jester
Rests the demons to fester
And high hope wishes
Now we're swimming with the fishes
Caught up in old lines
Disguised as I'm fine
Cheers, to another glass of wine
And high hope wishes
My heart knows was it misses
The look on your face of pride
The only side I never saw hide
I wish it was easy to let go of the past
To start a new life; to live with a pure heart
Where no one could remind me of what I've lost,
Where no one remembers who I was
Letting me live and embrace new things
Where no one compares me with anyone,
And all that matters would be what is yet to come
I wish I get to live with a hope that stays in the darkest of the days
And do not let me lose my faith
I hope I get to love the ones in my life
And erase all the hatred left, before they all bade me goodbye.
how many of us are struggling
how many of us are genuinely happy
we have evolved in so many ways
so so many different ways;
scoring As became secondary
we have to be exemplary in all areas
Can you dance?
Can you sing?
Do you play tennis well?
Are you good looking?
SHOW ME YOUR CREDENTIALS.
when have our lives become a piece of blank paper
a paper that flies with the wind
are we really that paper thin or do we
simply allow ourselves to be paper thin?
how many chances do we have
how many times can we screw up
how many times can we truly be ourselves
achievements have become burdensome
friendships have become tiresome
genuine ones, not so
pretentious ones, plentiful
we try to seek refuge at home
how many homes are places of comfort
how many more times can we cry before we sleep
how many times can we seek shelter before
we face the
Kitne aur zakhm, dikhao ge mujhe
Gir kar kabhi bhi, na pasakoge mujhe
Teri kismat mei mein nahi, koi aur hai
Tu mera sanam nahi, na jane tu kaun hai
Har waqt aazmate ho, apni mohobat mujh par
Lekin raham kar,
Chala ja mujhe meri haal par chor kar...
How many more scars will you show me
Even if you fall, you will not be able to seek me
I am not your fate, but there's someone who is
You are not my lover, nor do I know you please
Everytime you test your love on me with keen
But have mercy,
Leave me alone in whatever situation I might be in...
I know you're so scared of
The waves and the tides,
The unknown futures that might unfold,
Scared of getting hurt,
But I promise you, everything will be fine,
So you just need to ease your mind
and take my hands in trust;
For I will be you guiding lights
Forever without any doubts.
If you jumped with me in the ocean wide,
Do freely jump, without any reservations
For I want our futures to be built on solid foundations,
Foundations that are unshakable and grounded;
Thus, make up your mind without any fear
Choose it now not a second later,
And once you did, don't change your mind forever,
To change you mind and leave me
At the altar stranded
Stranded and alone with false hopes
As I wait for you,
Holding your favorite flowers,
If you decided to become,
the runaway bride.
I want to hurt myself or hurt anyone.
I think about chucking a hammer at someone's head
Or slitting someone's throat from behind
I think about jabbing a knife in my neck
Or crushing someone’s skull
I think about burning someone alive
Or poisoning them with bleach
They don't have to do anything to me
They don't have to say anything to me
They could do nice things for me
They could say nice things to me
And I just think about hurting them
Over and over I think about hurting them
and the thoughts get stronger
and it’s so hard to fight them
And I feel like I might go on a killing spree
And in the moment it feels so right
Like it’s what i’m supposed to do
A hunger pain I need to fill
With murder and blood and screaming
Their screams in my mind
Only make me laugh
It feels like my mind is possessed
These thoughts are all disturbed
Then they subside until it’s time
for them to come back again
And I’m always left feeling confused and frightened
It’s a struggle fighting these thoughts everyday
It’s a struggle “pretending” they aren’t there
It’s a struggle “lying” to everyone and myself
It’s a struggle hiding
It’s a struggle stuffing these sick thoughts
Back into my deranged brain
And no one can make it better
No arrangement of words makes a difference
I get tired trying to explain my suffering to the ignorant
But still I want them to know
And I don’t want to sugar coat the dark and ugly
Because my mind only forces me to hate them
I want to spit the gross truth in their faces
I want to smother their minds with demented thoughts
I want them to feel despair
I want them to suffer too
I want them to know, I want them to be scared
I want them to be uncomfortable
I want them to hurt
Then I wouldn't have to explain
Because I don’t need pity
Pity can’t fix me
Pity is useless
I need to write, I need to create, I need to express
I need to be able to speak about my demons
without someone judging me or being afraid of me
Or treating me as if i all I am is my thoughts
Because i’m more afraid then they are
I’m more terrified of my own thoughts
Especially when these thoughts don’t feel like my own
And If my thoughts are not my own, then whose are they?
I want these thoughts to go away
Beyond miseries of my broken heart
Lives the shattered pieces fallen apart
The player has made it into a jigsaw
Putting the pieces on high verge and low
Each piece is dipped into a pool of red ink
Soaking blank pages, while dried to shrink
With a sharp knife, the player craves a shape
A 3-D formation tucked in with a tape
The shape of a heart to replace the broken part
The broken heart now a 3-D paper art
Hoping for a beat, the player hears a cry
The shape is applauding, you made a good try
But the paper soon withered along with the ink
That left the player wondering to think
Why such an experiment was of need
His own 3-D paper made heart could not seed
The real feel and the love for he could not see
Now, insanely crying for his love, that was me...