This heart, if like a flower provides fragrance to others
Then it also tramples the love for those and memories of those who ***** it with their thorns
As this heart isn't made of flowers.

©Spriha Kant

Have you ever wondered why the world is so rough?
These plains break and mold from those like you.
Trampling in no order-
only you, decide what remains,
while the rest of that mind,
listens to the lies of the world.
How high your head must be,
what little oxygen you must get,
for your ignorance is as fluffy as a cloud.
You see what you wish in the sinful…
oh, how the crime is you.

Sincerely yours,
The Suppressed Dirt

My Feelings are pieces of paper,
crumpled,
With two feet trampled.
No one listens,
Nor see how my eyes glisten,
The tears remain in my soul,
Yet, with a smile I stand tall.
No one is aware of me,
What I perceive they never see.
My true feelings I am always hiding,
Cause my very own, only want to hear good tidings.
They are not interested in how I fare,
To tell the truth if I dare,
They think I want pity,
Leaving me alone and empty.
Everyone thinks I seek attention,
But all I want is connection,
A little understanding,
That is heart to heart,
A big hug for a start.

Not all leaves move with the wind.
Maybe because the others are too trampled on to move, too ground into the earth. Or maybe they're too stubborn and cling to the pile afraid to fly. But some let go.

They get picked up and carried and see more of the world. Loneliest. Loneliness is the price of worldliness. Ironic isn't it? The more you see the less time you have to connect and stay connected.

I'd still rather fly. So next breeze I feel I'm going to lean back, open up to opportunity and let myself be carried away.

A fragile little rose
(It's always a rose)
Petals clinging on for life
(Are they ever healthy?)
Soon to fall to the ground
(Probably smoothly)
And be trampled underfoot
(I dare say it's a symbol).

The gray pathways
Cobbled with stone
Time has entrenched
Melancholy in every piece
It leads to desolation
Yet he walks the beaten path
Bleeding his exposed feet
Blindfolded by pain
Numbness has set in
Every day as he walks past
Shoveling him away
Like a pile of dirt
Trashed away from life
Only to heap more misery
On the trampled heart
Its feeble cry unheeded
By the city, that walks past
Avoiding the dark alley










© Amitav (Radiance)