Dawn of the Living
Waking up in your time, I am the night! I see what calls you – A light from the sky, And you walk out like moths To a brimming sunshine; All that glare hides promises Of a bright future That you could make In your
Written
Did you know? You were born in kisses, Moulded with slurps Of my sloppy lips, You didn’t know what it was then Or what together meant. You just take love for granted, Just as you take breathing now. Your birth wasn’t a mistake, But a
The Crying Child
What ails you, child? Why cry you wild? The journey is yet to begin; The world is crook and pain And outright insane; It hides in its ways, Mysterious days, Hurt, that has yet to find a name. It will a play a game That’s
The Fallen
People fall in, They fall out, And yet they never learn That falling in Is supposed to give butterflies, While falling out, ashes. And that’s all there is to it – A series of falling in and out, Of broken hearts and reconciliations, Of tamed
Everyone Else
My parents named me a very common name. You google it and thousands of Prashant Singh show up. They had unknowingly registered me to their very idea of normalcy. Maybe they secretly wished me to be like everyone else. But I am not everyone else.
The Nomad
Sandwiched between places, I am a place Without a ground To call my own. I go here, I go there, Yet I am nowhere For a while; My while eats them alive. They talk in whispers, How my presence Bothers their heartless bodies. You wanted
Dissonance – A Short Sketch | The Gym Story
Ideas boil in my head sometimes and they want to pop out in the form of media I am accustomed to. Filmmaking being my latest fad, an idea was screaming to get out. That’s how dissonance was formed. We shot this in Surat in a
The Unmanned Boat
Sea to the left, See to my right To find another hopeless sight, Down below death drowns, I might not ever make it out, And yet I try to find my wade, Clueless about a certain fate, Must be a land somewhere That my purblind
Waiting Hands
Reading so much hope In so much less, You are warriors of dark Fighting for light. I wish you weren’t A mere statue of pity For comments pithy, Forgotten like people often Forget things unimportant. I have never known, I might have known; But the
Nimble
A split second Of eternal joy, A subway treat; A tasteful meet Of eyes and a face That might erase My today if tomorrow I don’t see you again. Like a whiff You dropped in, Akin to the kiss Of the first flake That stays