Burning Up
I am seething, Flaming in this impossible heat, Thinking what did I do to deserve this, What loathsome act did I commit To seal such a painful fate? Or was it just a matter of choice That plucked out known faces, Impelled me towards cold
Tag Archives: poem
Sleepless
Squinting in the dark, I try to find my light With my careful eyes; They are burning With a flame that’s crackling My body and soul, That’s making this pain Hard to bear. I have a dream in my eyes That’s keeping me alive From
Defiant
You did not get me, You do not get me, That’s how it is. I am a riddle To your hunt, And I sit here with answers To questions I am yet to face, With a confidence you can’t efface. I will pay you, If
Tripped
Do you not see me When I am around? When you trip me over I fall and break to hundred pieces, How can you be so blind That you fail to see me Sprawled out on the ground? I am looking for comfort In your
Tragic Love
Words feel smaller, They still call her; You are hazier, I am crazier Than before, And I don’t know, How many lives ago Were you there, Twinkling like a star In my sky. I am a life unlived, Hoping a vision clearer, Things were never
Work It Out
Work, I could bring you home, But you wouldn’t stay; I am a man Who knows your secret too much, And you would hear my thoughts, I talk that much. I hate the idea of you To be done, You are a serpent The world
Watch Me Die
Consumed, Confused, I lie awake, My life’s at stake, I am back to ground zero. They say there’s no hero; I tried to be one, Son of a gun! They are all blind! My eyes couldn’t find Hope to keep me up at night, Or
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 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