I don’t know how to cure your depression.
I only know how to be with you
Poetry
Something is always missing…
Something is always left behind. No matter how hard we try to hold on to things, they slip away.
As if those could sense our fears, saw our frightened eyes. But we can’t run away from the fact that every thing or every one has an expiry date. Things wear out. People leave us. Pets move on to better abode.
On the other hand, we never stop being selfish. We still want things till the time we are alive. So that we don’t miss out on any of the life’s treasures which is offered to us.
Our little selfish needs become the purpose to live life. Those wants of keep holding loved ones hands, those non-living stuff reminding us of serene times, those cute moments with our pets of making us more responsible yet glee-wise happy,these times are irreplaceable. So we try harder to not let go of anything and struggles of demanding love leaves a void inside our hearts and as they say something is always missing.
A 2233 poem
A fun, leisure game to write 2233 poem
1st line – 2 words
2nd line – 2 words
3rd line – 3 words
4th line – 3 words
Why don’t you all guys try it? ?
A Promise….
I think about the word ‘promise’
and what it means.
When fulfilled
it becomes a strength.
But unkept promises look like
that page of a book
which is folded from the corner,
reminding you to return to that page.
In due course, it’s abandoned.
The fold doesn’t harm the book in any way
but leaves an untidy imprint.
Whenever you happen to open the book again,
you see….there!
The mark!
Its where the care was forgotten
where it left an unignorable, lasting effect.
The day is over.
Stranger’s presence is gone
the warmth
the sense
all gone
Nothing seems to be right
All has vanished
It feels empty
As if noting ever will be right
The day is over
The bright day is over
Darkness overflows
And that it lingers on….
Not so special :-)
Listen
to yourself often.
Not being born special worked out.
It made you humble and grateful each time,
when you were given a chance
you proved yourself time & again
When people were busy bragging
you trudged silently
but you made it
everytime.
My voice to you!
My voice doesn’t reach you there
But I know you hear it
My screams get numbed
But I hope my silences scrape you
a forlorn attempt to hold you
a whimsical endeavor to outgrow you
my memory poisoning my dreams
your absence obscuring my senses
when sunlight enters, I see
the bright light mocking me.
A voice always calling out to you
doesn’t matter it’s day or at night
Morning is meant to illuminate
not to succumb to dark.
Collecting souvenirs of wretched soul
my voice eventually chokes to death.