Do this cry sound like rain?
With those fields of broken grains,
And the clouds with dark stains,
Does the ground feel all this pain?

Wake up to the sun tonight,
Maybe the moon doesn't light up right,
But the ocean will always fight,
For the peace, for the star's sight.

Let winds breathe from the trees,
This is how the flowers plea,
To look this beautiful to see,
And bring our eyes down to its knee.

Now these fake laughs surround me like miseries
Asking why I am not smiling anymore.
If I am sick are there is any problem in my life.
How do I tell-
There was something hurting me, before
But you never bothered to know,
Because I was smiling all the time.
Became one of you.
That's all I was-
A ******* (Fake smile) curl of lips not reaching my eyes.
Getting paid for it.

Now that I am me.
You can't take it anymore.
Why?
Guess it's not what you wanted me to be.
It's not up to the standards of this beautiful society.

The society Where are never belong to.
Never wanted to be a part of.
And when I talk to people,
They don't like it either.
Then who decides that we have to be here.

Part of something which is huge,
But no one wants to be a part of.

{ Like each drop of the river is running to be a part of the ocean,
Because it doesn't want to be where it is,
Dreams about the ocean and how it would be a happy place.
Only to know the reality once it is there.
Then the Drop leaves all the hope and drowns itself in the surrounding water.}


But if everyone is forced
Why don't we just leave it?
Let's have our own societies
Owned by each of us.
With rules made by us
Our own.

Too rebellious - they say.
You are a part of this you can't go.
Where did I sign- when- I ask.
No answers.
Only Rules to follow.

I wanted to breathe- fresh air
They close all the windows.
And make me breathe the stink-
Of their bodies, my body
And tell me this is heaven,
To be blessed with all this beauty,
All these people around me-
Friends, Families, Relatives, Neighbors.

How do I tell-
Our heavens are different.
My heaven consists of me,
My melancholy and my sad soul.
Noooooooo - they cried.
No that's hell.
You can't go there.
You are too naive to know the difference.
We are here to guide you,
Help you know the better.
Really?
Then,
Where were you?
When I was feeling crushed,
By the weight of my fake happy soul,
Which wasn't mine,
But borrowed from you,
One of yours, fake souls,
Which also died of their own weight.
Pretending is heavy.
Very heavy.
Not for everyone.

Why didn't you come and help me?
When my soul was crying a river,
Teardrops of my blood, painful.
Cutting through all the way.
Wherever it fell.
Leaving a scar and a Burn.
As Black as my fake white painted black soul.

Did you see it? Did you?
No. You were busy putting the Angelic white on it whenever you saw it turning Grey, because of the real color it was holding.

You were happy with the outcome.
It was what you wanted.
What I was supposed to be.
I was expected to like it.
But how do I do that?
Especially when at the end of the day when I am on my bed.
And I try to take the skin off,
And remove the soul so it can take some rest.
But as soon as it is away from the fake smile- happy- peel of the skin.
It turns black- all jet black, within a nanosecond.

Then I try to cover it,
So that no one sees it.
And I can't sleep, because of the fear of getting caught.

You told me, I don't need to be afraid of anything
As long as I believed in HIM
But you taught me to be scared of you. Funny.
How it all works, if it pleases you.

I was screaming,
But you didn't ask me - What happened?
I wanted to be heard,
For once at least.
But I never said anything.
Because I am supposed to follow, no questions.

He said- you are sad,
Because I was upset.
Because you love me, care about me.
So I should be happy.
In order to keep YOU happy.
You do not understand - it's a big favor to ask for. Do you?
Take away someone's sorrow, - someone's genuine state of mind.
My gift from HIM.

I tried - I tried hard.
To do things the way you want.
Write happy stories.
Sing cheerful songs.
Keep that upward curl on my lips.
Putting on my red lipstick,
And my black high heels.
Walking as a Lady should.
Rhyming my poetry as far as I could.
Even if it took away the essence,
Just to please you.
To be a part of something I never really wanted to be a part of.
Only to lead to my Paranoia.
Which I got because of you.
Now Taking all my medicines
To keep all my thoughts away.
To please you once more.
Because my thoughts are what would destroy me( as per you)
Maybe it will destroy you.
Because I see that fear on your face.
Whereas I am not scared of destruction and death?
I yearn for them.
to lose everything I own,
Is my dream.
Which you tell me to be scared of.

Now I see that fear clearly on your face.
You taught me to be afraid of you.
Because in reality you were scared of me.
My dark thoughts.
My pure black innocent soul.
Just because I didn't fit your rules.



Now You can see me walk away from you, your people.
I am walking with my head up.
Broadening shoulders, confident.
A smile - not the fake one this time.
And my black soul along with me.
It is sad as usual.
But I have embraced it.
Because that's the way it was made to be.

Now you all watch me go
As I live a happy life with my sad soul.

The verses write themselves
Words of life
The writer
Possessed

I'm a writer,

But what if I tell you that I'm losing my identity? It's been a few months and I feel that I'm slowly losing my ability to write.
I always considered myself a poet. But now, I feel like a dictionary with thousands of blank pages. With no definition and no sense of reason.
And I'm scared.
How will you ever love me now?
You fell in love with me because of my words, didn't you?
They always stirred some sort of emotion within you. Something that you tried so hard to hide. But whenever you read the poems that I wrote, your armor cracked.
What if I tell you that writing had slowly turned into a burden? Baggage that has now become too heavy for me to carry all alone. I realized a while back, how I pushed myself to write just to connect with you. To let you know how I'm suffering. I expressed all my agony through those words. I wrote about how, all those words, that had once been a blessing now seem like punishment.
You called that mad rambling of words, 'Beautiful.' You were too blind to see how this pain was consuming me. So, once again I forced myself to down the poison that you thought, tasted like an age-old wine.

Darlin, the words have abandoned me, and now so did you.

my chest is no longer a chest
but a cage which my deepest of feelings
find themselves trapped
with rugged locks offering the glint of freedom

they swell from deep within
their waves lapping against the iron bars
screaming into the darkness
begging to be heard through their piercing of my silence

but who is around to translate their cries?
who might speak the world’s language
well enough to decipher the mystic codes
in which my soul communicates?

these words will never escape their holding cell
and will never reach the surface
water will forever seep into their lungs
and their cries will become gurgles under the unforgiving pressure of the tides

no matter how far down i swim to their rescue
or countless rings of keys i try
my tortured words will never reach their page
or escape the deadly prison of my mind

I have been offered the position of a Poet,
In the office high above the fields
where my ripe and naked heart
has labored carelessly,
And the daily quotas of insecurity
were nowhere to be met.

I've worked hard for this promotion,
And even harder to decline it.