oh, my fair maiden
why thou worry?
look at that lass,
look how she gently pass,
i envy her and
i know you do it too.
i could carve her image out with charcoal,
let assume cuts as her kisses,
recite poetry for her yet a million more
all for the lady i adore
so, my fair maiden
your worry can be understood
my worship, my love, my devotion for her
can't be returned to me
they are hers and hers alone
though sometimes i wish
i wish for that devotion to return
in any form or way,
in month of may or dismay,
i want it to return from anyone
so oh,
my life has been spend in sidewalks of others,
for once i would like to be the main view
so fair maiden,
let me worry with you

they are such fantasies of mine.
Such silly fantasies of mine that i believe will come true.
A boy learning wholly of literature and dictionary just to read my poems,
A boy listening about every stupid thing i ever own,
A boy praying that i get all alone with him.
These are all fantasies or wishes to me.
Which all come from a place of desperation. Of course
Which fool might recite entirety of Shakespeare just to read a girl's stupid old words?
Which ******* will take his precious time out to listen about birds?
Oh, which buffoon will pray for me?  
I, whose existence lies on poetry is no show for modernity.  
I, whose wings are tattered will always be a shattered mirror for society.

oh my Allure,
where have you gone?
I've searched every heaven for you and you are here to be found.
you have such radiancy people are fond of,
such a magnetic force people care for,
yet you whimper all day by looking at your reflection
is there something wrong in your sensation?
if beauty can be stolen it will be first yours to be lost.
your eyes are as mystical as stories i used to read,
your hair as soft as clouds i travelled by,
your intelligence as vast as ocean
so why do you cry
at words that pass by

i am a coward.
i admit it.
a meek, a chicken, a weakling, a craven
all the words which were associated with fear were associated with me too.
my trembling hands go cold, numb
after it stops. it feels motionless.
my eyes sees vision, blurry.
i stumble on ground.
my legs with no ability to walk makes me sit on floor,
the floor,
be it cool or moderate,
it always piecers my body.
i lose my reason and sense.
such a fear controls my body.
i do not know what to call this fear.

how can i?
i halt.
my pen stops and i wonder what to write.
so many mistakes, so many failures
i wonder who i am.
am i an example of how you should not be?
am i an experiment of how lowly one can be?
am i the one who is made to stray in open fields and fear?
i really don't know.
i question it time to time.
this too, is a time like that
how can i be so obtuse at times
how can i abuse my life
how can i be a ******, a fool, a witty ghoul
all at once yet
yet this always eat my eyes when i try to sleep at night

i want to whisper in your ear,
so close that my warm breathe makes you tingle.
i will whisper all my sweet nothings to you,
those will melt right in your mouth.
all my poetry is based upon you,
you are sole star in my galaxy.
who am i without the love i share?
who am i without the love so rare?
all alone i crash and rash all over the place
yet it is your gaze that makes my heart race.
yet again this is all a wish.
a wish won't come true.
so i find pleasure in wishing too.

heaps of jewels reach the sky,
gold dripping from scars
and silver stuck to teeth.
Stars in galaxy scorn over them as they laugh.
I plead in silence.
In dead silence.
In a world of described darkness and i see them brunch.
Munch.
They munch on all edibles.
Edibles i've heard.
One by one everyone disappeared.
i know the reason and the truth
but could not speak up and shoot.
I knew about them.
I know about them.

out of all the people who have seen me,
why did he made me feel seen?
He saw me as a evergreen paradise, always beaming up to dream.
He stared at me,
prolonged,
as i'm the ruthless star crashing through the galaxy.
A thousand words of coursety,
letters of love.
A million actions of care,
a zillion praises to drown in but
why does his look of wonder fill up my anxious soul?
why had he become the Sol to my Soul?

so my parents blabbered about how the enormous love they shared resulted me to existence.
Their faces were covered with brilliant smiles and i saw love radiant in them.
Though i couldn't pinpoint their pastel lies made in paradise.
Those shades of blue hovered through the sky
and drops of hatred made me cry.
Its thunder made my ears bleed,
its lightning made my eyes sore.
I am no child of love.
I am the child of hatred my mother bore.

All this praise is a slow poison which cripples under my skin.
You can not see and can not feel
  but you will see its appeal.
It dazzles the one who lays its eyes upon and
glances surfaces by its arrival.
Oh and
oh and
oh and
oh how i grovel upon its arrival as it may gesture empathy but it is not.
i slowly decompose in its sedimentation.
It is a disguise.
A disguise.
One must not fall yet i fall.
I fall and fail.
Fall and fail.
Fall and fail.
Fall and fail.
How many times has it been?
Since i've felt this eradicating feeling from my core.
Has it been moments ?
Days? months?
years?
My whole existence?

how cruel of you to exhaust moments of delight into staying here
forever.
It can't.
Joy,
delight,
excitement,
laughs,
smiles,
sunshine,
happiness are all fleeting emotions. They come by as a swift of wind to kiss you so impressing that you may be tempted.
You may be tempted to make it last.
happiness is a part of nature that we solmely feel,
you cannot make it last.

there's literature hanging in the air right now but i have a stuffed nose and what more can this mouth engulf in a disgusting way.
I had dreams.
Merry should i say but they attach themselves to the literature right now because i have a stuffy nose and can't breathe.
All the passions,
pleasing,
socialization attaches themselves to the literature as it is in the air right now.
Do they all love literature just as much as me
or are they mocking me for the stuffy nose?
because i sure remember smells of those whose enticement ran through my veins and spilled from my finger tips.
They were enchanted by the world yet they all hang in the air now.
Dense air which slowly cripples my eye sight.
Have the air not known of situation i am poised in?
Why would it know?
Its air.
Air.
Air.
Air.
Its so unfair.
I believe the air must be the one who floated the literature up.
Or else why would it be hanging?
That dense air mocks me for having ocean tides on my body,
for the vast difference in our size,
for the way i move slow compared to it and now it holds my
every array of hope.
There's literature hanging in the air now,
Yet the air sickens me
so i think literature loathes to be with me.

I painted your greyest skies my warmest colours,
i planted flowers over your dead soil,
i sat in pit of misery as my experience shouldn't be bestowed upon you,
i pleaded as a solider to its king to stop the war,
to stop the war within you
and when the roles were reversed you left me out to stink in my agony, dreaded with misery
When questioned, you looked at me
It was the first i saw your soulless eyes,
and maybe i shouldn't had hesitated with your knife over my throat,
I should've melted over your knife and let blood drip your face,
If it drips would it be sinful? Or a scar?
maybe i should've let myself rot away as my soul would've been free,
if it weren't for me
would you have survived?
You, who held this misery once was too shaken to see if it weren't for me.
We are two worlds colliding and dying.

You are a great friend,
Mi Aŕmour.
A friend i've saved wishes for.
But what must be said, must be said that you can't fathom my grief and the weight of unsaid.
You drew over the mountains of stillness of mine
and felt the breeze of all my trades yet my grief is something you finger point and critize.
Telling that i over dramatize.
Not in words but your actions tell
and i hold every reason for this friendship to befell.
Yet i cling,
i cling,
i cling to belief that this grief must not be shared as it will be ridiculed in paper or with friends.
“So be it!” i exclaim as my pen drops.

Grow, grow, grow!
They all said.
When was i ever little?
My memories felt facade.
A way to cope up.
I learned my mother's name by bleeding through it
and
my father's name through screaming it.
Everyone was once someone i tried to hid from.
I tried to run away yet i colapsed and sat on the very ground.
My years flew in denial.
So, next time when i haunt myself for the growth maybe i can repeat this again?
Yet i could not use this as an excuse or a treatment in bed.
This knots up nerves in my brain
How could i go without them?

I yell at dead trees for being too loud,
i strangle them with cold pieces of iron,
i heat them up in fire,
i throw the burdens i can't carry
as no other could listen to this misery of mine.
Everybody has footsteps behind their lane but not me,
I see a creature,
slowing lurking to pull me in.
With every pebble thrown at me,
it shouts to end it all.
It has neither face nor a body to move,
Its an energy i must get through.
my rugged clothes and chimney dark,
my small home and sluggish moves,
my flower of hope with a drip of desire.
That's all i have to fight through this monster.

i place flowers on grave i once was in. Same soul,
different bodies.
One fresh in pulp and other fresh in rot.
I laugh at the irony.
Though i shouldn't.
I take your indifference to me as your cause of death,
maybe the real reason also resided with you in death.
When i mourned my life and what has it become ;
how come you only ever said a thing or two
when i moved mountains for you. Every now and then my blood seized to its attack.
I collapse and get dragged to the grave i seek for help.
Like any sane human would.
I seek for solace from you only to get a “me too”
switched between lands through and through.
So, i had to arise,
dust myself and build a home.
Now, its you who has tasted a mere of what i've been stomaching for years. You wither through and through its tangled strings.
It pushes the flesh out like it once did to me.
Yet you had me.
You had me in the battle i fought before.
Before as a survivor and now as a specter.
I laugh
and laugh
and laugh
and laugh
on how you had me and always did but i couldn't had you no matter how deadly the nightmare felt.

i have been caged up for so long that i no longer feel the rust itch upon my skin,
how the harsh sun melts my fellow mate bones.
Every now and then there's a meal.
A meal so fantastic for cover up that even i believe it.
4,203 meals yet none of it tastes as delicious as meal of denial.
Hard to come by,
get past and stroll upon so i eat it.
Day by day till starvation meets my face
as every meal was just anger,
desperation,
ignorance,
emotional unavailability,
selfishness
as meal is not made of food.
It was never made of food.
“Everybody paints me the villain!” He cries.
There's no paint left over to cry in canvas.
“Nobody understand me!” he pleads and goes away
It's been 627 days since his death,
He reeks.

I've been here for 6,570 days.
a short time i suppose.
it makes my existence so minute,
such as freckles on face,
such as stars in space.
it feels so vague and absurd yet
I have stories to tell,
Families to visit too,
Friends to live for but this
This all seems temporary
It is exhausted in the moment itself
The hope, the familiarity,
The joy, the passion
Everything.
I, again sat to wonder upon my existence
Wondering how true soul is?
I'm here for 6,570 days
They were days i wanted to stop counting it
Yet the numbers refused

Oh darling, why haven't you learned how the heart cowardice disappears for the sake of loved one yet comes trembling back in before them?
Why haven't you learned that those grand gestures of love are just quick instincts for you?
Why you haven't stopped serving your flesh on platter and giving your bones as rich delicacy?
Why do belittle your brittle heart to commend to other's world?
Why do caress wounds which makes you spiral, not on your body but only because it's on other's ?
Decades went by as you sink in your bed.
Your tears grew mold as your eyes shred.
With lingering hope you called for an voice to answer,
a hope to receive
yet all you ever got was a cold shoulder,
a close call to defeat.
Now, you're on your feet.
Laying bricks one at time.
saying, it'll be a memory or a story to tell
smiling ever so softly and lull
your glow can purify this hell.
though you still cling to them,
as a friend or companion or as a soul
though how can i tell?
as i watch you from the distance one could get ;
is the circus missing a fool ? Or did the school miss a ghoul?

I'll grow on you,
like moss on trees,
like stillness in breeze,
like stars at ease.
Little by little i'll unfold it all
Like a story waiting to appease.
And i won't let you go now,
no.
We've come so far with our little footsteps,
Those footsteps ink your book.
I'll watch you glow,
Go with the flow,
Get all low,
and watch you blow all over again
Yet
Those footsteps ink dries out but not this love with you.

A screen.
An act of bore
where routine dialogues are said for mere regret over discourse.
A set of characters dressed in their unusual appearances
and mock full costumes.
It's the same all over again.
It repeats,
repeats,
repeats until she repents.
I could only sit here and trace fingers over the glazed screen.
I've tapped,
slapped and
omitted all of joy i've got to get through it yet all in vain.
Her sound of laughter,
mixed with joy and excitement
she's feeling lingers still.
a hope for me to grieve.
The boy who she loved,
looked the same as he was 11 years ago.
For him,
memories came over rushing as the ocean rushes to gallop on shore but for her it was desertion of self.
She no longer remembers me,
the memory of her first love.
I wandered through her trenches,
found her secret yet
still i could not figure how she forgot the boy she called “mine”.
Particle by particle.
I began fading out.
He is reaching for her.
He is holding her hand.
I gasp if i could filled with life
but i turn to rust
and resign from life
as she slaps and shouts at him for the first time.

Undress me with light of your eyes,
for i long to be engulfed in.
by mere glances i feel purified,
as raven in sun- lit forest.
those stares tore down the sins,
i wonder about pure bliss.
these clothes flow upon my body,
They stick and make me sick but oh,
Oh, how i long to be undressed.
Both by the body and soul.
So, undress me with light of your eyes my love.
As i no longer can befall.

I used to picture you with vibrant colors,
With melodies you once sang,
with flowers that smell as precious as you.
They were rocks thrown at me.
They were small yet brittle.
I stood still,
you could barely notice those rocks,
Those rocks accumulated in me an
Soon enough it impaled me,
I pictured you mourning,
Selfish of me yet i pictured,  
I wanted you to breakdown just like i did,
Piece by piece, drop by drop
I wanted your flesh just like how i gave mine,  

“A feat of friendship!” i remember backbiting you.
Yet a piece of me wanted sympathy,
A piece of me wanted to be heard
as this impale by life hurts little
because your ignorance takes it all.

My eyes bulge out to escape
this tremendous crying,
My heart strains its muscles
to break the rib cage,
neither cared nor ever will,
it eludes from this turmoil,
day by day i watch my skin
sullied,
and those non-existent muscles
ailing as they drag throughout the day,
my bones are of dust,
now i feel as my body would appreciate a ever-lasting hug from
mother earth,
as her fingers glid through my ruins and feed nutrition
i would like to dissolve in this moment,
wholly all the flowers which grew upon me
will tell stories of me,
of a girl too young to breathe
so she kneeled.

I don't really like the way he found you.
No.
I can no longer pretend.
Its more nauseous to think about as
you were drowning in river of Nile,
even sinking in sand for a while,
deep and deep you were crawling
yet he found you,
his gentle caresses,
his soft tone enveloping cherry blossom and
those eyes which race to capture your beauty,
those lips had prayed for you,
along with sugar talking they had prayed for you
his desperation sickened me to core,
saying how meant to be and how you are so much more,
when your struggles encore,
yet who i am to judge or tell you how love should be
love finds in times one is suffocated to be in,
so,
alas i go listening to your stories

oh,
how the tragedy speaks for itself with me in its arms.
It speaks about vile i let in and followed through life.
It gushes on given blood to a vampire It applauds me,
For venturing in woods,
Fighting with wolves,
shedding skin off for a family of cruels,
It repeats my sins over my dead body to make sure i remain buried.
I've lived in pages others skim through,
Pages where ink is bruised too,
all along i've been in a story that must be abolished through and through.
I could've been a sonnet of love,
memerising everyone to above,
yearning, longing for the ones i love
i gave myself to the above.
The times passed between my fingers,
As steadily sand passes through,
all alone i whisper
Will the life regret me too?

oh friend, my friend.
Where hath thou gone?
These sleepless nights hath frown me so.
To a point i am at death's bow.
How come you aren't though.
We bleed, we breathe together
so how come you aren't here.
Though i must say with all the haste that the times we made were are just a memory of thee as now you can't seem to be.
I search and search for a way but all i find is dismay.
In these melodic nights i call for thee yet all i find are fleas.
Moments of anger turned into fleas and somehow they are the only remembrance of you.
And somehow that is enough for me. Of flea, oh flea.
Where art thou?
Lack of you is shaming me apart
so tell me apart from all these lies
and tell me where you fly
as when all is said and all is done
you are still my friend though you,
a flea to me.
A flea i would rather carry than flee.

My tears dress for cowardice.
They are always up on my eye lids ready to ashame me.
“the rain is about to befall!”
the cads care too much.
All these drownings of heart break paint me ****,
you dignified it in sentences of two. “you cry often. You cry in front of everyone.”
you persuaded me about our fragile hearts.
Filled with softness and poetry.
“but that's our friend”
it got ingrained in my memory.
I trace it with my fingers in solitary. “in this harsh, cruel world.
Kindness is the greatest boon to have”
my lips curl into a warm smile. Though these memories don't come often.
They are trapped away in a dull corner of mind yet they come in time. Just how our paths collide
Messing up fate's tricks and twists
Those messed up calls,
messages built up on one and other, cancellation couldn't quite reach for our comfort with each other.

Such a mere desire to have, my lady.
To be suffocated in sol of your life is a mere desire you thrist upon daily. Look at the cads!
Look how merry they are by buffoonery while you leak of probity. How generous were you when you let his sin fall in yours.
Gave a taste of your soul to a foul,
I pity you my lady.
I really do.
In odour you seek paradise with a prize of affection
yet all i see and all i will is that your kindness towards them gives them the right to ****.

Heartbreak is an instrument everybody had played before me.
A melody struck to dazzle mind and words struck to parrallze one.
I swore off to never play a tune or a similar one.
I stood true and only ever stepped close to the instrument.
So, when i trace my fingers upon the one playing it i halt.
Occasionally i would gasp or clap yet all i ever do is to just stare.
Stare at the person dying in front of me.
I read their lips, their fingers, the way they let their emotions flow.
Only to be found, ever so slightly tuning in the music.
The music of all the things that shouldn't occur.
I've watched them drown and evaporate
Rise and devestate yet
I flicker my eyes to this person and
I wonder how it must tremble the person for it to just splash around in agony as they are scared to go inside of it.
I might just walk away because a heart break not worth living again for the art is an art not worth of heart break.