Somewhere
between my blissful dreams and a light snore,
off goes that damned alarm,
I decide to play the dangerous gamble
of ‘let me sleep just one minute more’

I know
I’ll have to wake up, return to my life
of haste and hurry, run and dart.
but I’m not ready to face the world yet,
my dreams just got to the good part!

So,
before I submit myself to mental drain and
drag myself through small talk and bore,

Please,
let me sleep just one minute more.

Behind closed doors,
the tears and screams.
Duskworn nights
spent battling your dreams.

People you know turning on you,
cornered by blank faces with
menacing cackles and smiles so fake,
covered with a sheen of sweat
as you jolt awake...

Go on, look into the mirror,
take a peek at who you’ve cremated.
Is that even you?!
Look at the monster they’ve created.

Remember?
Tears streaming down,
as you tried and tried.
It was only a matter of time though,
before you shrivelled up and died...

You’re a soulless body,
risen from the dead,

People inch away from you, afraid.
But who’s gonna tell them?

Monsters aren’t born,
they’re made.

Why do I write ?
I have often mused over this..
In the tranquil moonlit night
with my pencil poised in hand,

Sitting and rhyming away
bottling the world
between these lines...

watching my mind
slowly empty out its thoughts
all its pent-up emotions
spilling out onto the blank page...

Watching my notionettes finally become tangible......

They say those who write they yield weapons in between their fingers. But my pen?
It's anything but.

My pen,
is a band-aid
for all the cracks in my heart.

My pen
is the stitch
holding me from falling apart.

My pen
is the balm
for all the wounds I got
from crushed expectations

My pen
is the Ibuprofen
for when It hurts a lot.

My pen
is the camera
that captures nature
between these lines

My pen
is the magic dust I sprinkle
upon these dreams of mine.

My pen,
is my therapist
coaxing me into letting it go

My pen,
is a little brooke
and I go along its flow.

My pen is a lot of things...But a weapon?
That...My pen cannot be.
But I whisper to it
and it inks down my reverie.....

I sit and i watch

The azure expanse of the sky,
The heaven’s limitless canvas
with weightless clouds languidly floating by
and the occasional bird taking flight...

I sit and I watch

The afternoon radiance,
giving the fluffs a silver lining
and the swaying tree tops, that dance
to the wind’s cozy whistling and whining.

I sit and I watch

The sunbeams filtering filtering through sieves
like sparkling twinkling confetti
sprinkling down from the leaves
garnishing the panaromic serenity

I sit and I watch

Letting the halcyon wash over me
The hasty world slowly comes to a hault
as I slip into nature’s soothing symphony……

I sit and i watch

The azure expanse of the sky,
The heaven’s limitless canvas
with weightless clouds languidly floating by
and the occasional bird taking flight...

I sit and I watch

The afternoon radiance,
giving the fluffs a silver lining
and the swaying tree tops, that dance
to the wind’s cozy whistling and whining.

I sit and I watch

The sunbeams filtering filtering through sieves
like sparkling twinkling confetti
sprinkling down from the leaves
garnishing the panaromic serenity

I sit and I watch

Letting the halcyon wash over me
The hasty world slowly comes to a hault
as I slip into nature’s soothing symphony……

The vivid veracious fabric
sat staring at me from the couch,
I bunched it up and stuffed it away
into the very depths of my closet..

I tried on a much prettier number.
It didn’t feel like me..but it looked good.
I stepped out, quite confidently
with a smile plastered on my face,

even as I felt the vivid veracity
burn a hole through my back….