I am guilty of all you've been told
I admit to being cold,
Mean, inconsiderate and selfish
Not minding this beauty without blemish

Have I used you? yes, guilty
And I will do it again as need be
Forgive me for the wrong I have committed
Though a wrong carefully coined and crafted

I have used you in so many ways
May be those even wrong,
Dear poetry, you must endure the pain
Because whenever I get the chance, I will use you again.

Born to the certainty of dying
Then where is the reason for trying?
Striving to keep and guard this already lost life
Is it the yearning to live for just another day?
Or an effort to evade death?
- A lost battle even from the onset -
Or the fear of death itself?
I say, it is because man was not meant to die
But looking at the cards in hand
Die we must
Then why all the fuss?
We are a people like that.

The tricks life on us
He puts us into different skin tone
Different tongues
And places us on different points of the earth
The subtle differences that have turned us into gladiators
Earth the arena
And life the emperor.
Our clashes and wars
His entertainment
Our sorrow and pain
His pleasure
The differences that should've been complementary
Have brought us immeasurable kaos and calamity
We are a people like that.

Imagine a world where everything is the same
Gender, human beings only dividing line
But everything else, the same
Same skin tone and tongues
Same faces and same names
All men called Johns
And women, she-Johns
Imagine the boredom of such a monotonous world.
I guess being different is beautiful after all.
And maybe, that is why we are a people like that.

Ding ****, the cathedral bell tolls
Songs sang , to welcome the priestly
son .
Come along let' s join in these songs ,
Even if we can ' t sing them , just
hum along
Follow the little shiny star
Though it seems too far
It ' s a sure guide to the manger
Where the royal family are .
Beat the drum some more
Celebrate in style and glamour
Give generously to carry others
along
Bringing all to the glory of this
beautiful song ;
Joy to the world, joy to the world.
Santa , oh dear Santa .
Glorious messenger
Give my girl a song
One that is perfect and dispels
everything that is wrong.
Oh dear Santa
She is my all
And thus she must know .
Give her a smile and hug from me .
And the kiss. . . . . . . . ?
Don ' t worry about that, I will do it
myself.
Merry Christmas my sweet angel.

Honest and pure hearts
Pressured and pressed hard
So hard that everything assumes the form of a choice
Because the heart is poised
So blindly we delve
To satisfy this yearning self

A new breeze is blown
The air, with new smell, is strewn
Or at the least that's what the heart warns
My heart is ***** of rationale
So that it is drowned in troubles I can't tell

Like the glaring sun
I see the doubts your heart has spun
“Wait dear Nerat, you need a rethink”
The heart said with a tap on the shoulder and a wink
So some truth in coincidences start to blink

Fight or flight
Adrenaline's rush inside.
To see beyond the eyes, the heart strives
But reality scares the eyes
So that, perceived beauty begins to wear blemishes
And a beautiful lawn begins to grow bushes

As certain as the sun I have resolved
In my heart, I have no doubts about this love.

At her wheel again
Spinning and spinning
What will be the output, joy or pain?
Far, far away it is from our knowing,
Only the young sun on the east can tell.

A perfect dilution
Of sweet and bitterness,
Who dares the separation?
No one could endure the tediousness
Only her and her alone.

Wheel as you will
Its joy and pain we've all seen
What now will it be?

You are perfect
That very thing I need
You're my sunset
That very dream I've dreamed
When the earth could touch the sun
And our lips can kiss the moon
And every road does lead to you
You are my all
You are my all

You're my rainfall
The very drops of grace
As I stand tall
My strength is in your face
You've been called in every song
And it always makes me strong
Cause you are my perfect song
You are my all
You are my all

In my quiet
I hear my heart cry;
My soul groan and moan;
And my stomach pregnant with 'these' hurts
But our complacent outside
Conceals the pain and hurt behind a plastic smile

The more we hurt inside
The broader and wider the feigned smile
Yet the hurt is grown so much
So that it taste bitter in the back of my tongue

We strain to tame and hide it
But it claws and claws. seeking to surface
Thus our worries in silence start eating at us
Gnawing on our essence a bite at a time
Still foolishly wearing the now worn  plastic smile

Some may say we die in silence
But i say we **** ourselves with it.
So those things we did not say be-time
We write and leave them by our dying bed's side
As though it was some suicide note