I'm dead,
I have already committed suicide,
No you can see me,
You can feel me,
You can read me,
But you can't find even a single reason to call me alive,
No I haven't got cut on my hand,
& haven't ever tried to hang,
But I have got my heart bleed,
I have got it broken,
I couldn't actually die,
& sorry I'm unable to keep myself alive,
Not my fault,
cause I'm the one
never loved,
never cared,
never caressed,
never being consoled,
never being hold...
So here is a midway,
So here is a dead me,
With a human body,
Healthy & fit
A ***** kit!!!
What if I can't cut my lifeline,
I have already cut my connections with life & now I think it's all fine...

My intoxicating & love filled eyes whom you did admire,
Are now filled up with revenge's fire...

My sweet cherry lips you loved,
Have now ****** the saltiness of my tears & are now poisoned...

You loved my rosy nails,
Who now have been transformed into the iron's nails,

The ocean of tears in which you left me to drown,
Have flooded me & now my heart is nothing but a deserted town...

Now I ain't the tender teen girl whom you could easily cheat,
Now I'm a lioness of this forest whom badly nobody can treat...

So now dare you not to look at me,
Cause the acid you spread in my life is burning yet in my eyes...

I love this lonely forest way,
Here I don't get any fake hope of gay,
Or anyone to break my trust,
Here isn't anyone to tell me the worst,
But here I'm left alone in the lap of nature,
I love to talk to the young trees full of life,
& those elder ones who are quiet mature,
The pure wind giving me the positivity,
& taking away all my impurity,
The sacred river taking me to the peace,
Here all my anxieties & tensions I do  release,
Here is a blessing of evergreen greenery & happiness,
From here passes the way of liveliness...

Every morning me...
Just after having my tea
...is back on my roof,
With my new book,
as an excuse,
But I'm back to my work...
My work -
         Of reading the stories written by the fog on the face of mountain,
        Of catching the momentary scrape on my body by the cool wind which won't come again,
        Of understanding the songs of birds,
     Of understanding the leaf's whispers to the buds,
           Of stealing the colors, & pleasant aroma from flower,
      Of listening the river's love hymns...
Every morning me...
Just after having my tea,
...is back to my work,
My work of collecting all these words of nature & composing new rhymes,
My work of giving these rhymes love's aroma & peace's color,
My work of being a title giver,
My work of being a nature lover!!!

A new life flourishing in an old,
roof - leaking, Poverty's hut,
Like in that filthy bog, a beautiful lotus is blossoming but,
I wonder will that lotus ever reach to its true place, the Muse's legs,
Or will it get lost like all others in the bog of poverty & lacks?
Will this lotus drown in this bog in this storm of malnutrition,
Or will it ever be able to get its basic right
- the right of education?
  I don't know, & neither do you all,
Cause this hut is surrounded by the suffocating smoke,
- which is tearing of the new life of this young child born in dark,
Oh wake up & save him, before the door of his life get shut!!!