Can you ever see beyond that curve on my face?
Do you know that my world is upside- down?
That expression on my face,
When inverted is the real me.
You see me dancing and freaking out to a foot tapping number,
But maybe I am escaping a evil engraved deep in me.
Actually your eyes are covered by a cloth,
A veil that conceals my hidden self,
You disagree to see beyond it,
And thus fail to know the real me.
Sitting beside the lake, looking at her reflection, she remembered everything that happened. That heartbreak, that insult without any reason and that unfulfilled desire. She wanted to die, jump and end her life, because she had just come out of a day, a day she believes encloses the worst time she has ever ticked through. She dipped her legs into the water, dragged herself a little further, a little nearer to the closure of her wretched life. But then she felt a hand, over her shoulder, a hand that beckoned her to show her what is still left to be done, it brought her to a world she had ceased to see, her world, her life in pieces. She had been through this ordeal before, she had passed days, much worse than this, but the happy moments that followed camouflaged the bad ones. A thought suddenly crossed her mind, she realised that she would come out of this too, and plunge into another set of worthy days. She found so much more is left to be done her unfinished dreams desired her presence, to step towards the completion. That day she learnt a lesson from the hand of hope, her inner self.
A sparkling ray, fell on the transparent water as she walked on the road towards her house, the wish to die slowly leaving her soul.
Sometimes I wish to cry, cry and cry,
So that the mound,
The heap,
That terrible weight,
Crushing my heart down,
Gets lifted,
And I could breathe again.
Am I the girl who deserves that shrug of your shoulder or that rotten remark you lightly whisper into your neighbour’s ear when I pass by? This question had often puzzled me but I never found a suitable answer. Now I have ceased to think about it and stopped caring about you lot.
I am that girl who you would have called vociferous, a girl who lives in your neighbourhood whom you hate from the core of your heart. I remember those early days, when I used to go out with people you found shady but I never cared. Then one day everything changed, the day my parents died in that plane crash. Sitting beside their soul less body, I cried for hours. You said that I was just pretending. But believe me that excruciating pain that I felt when I saw their body in morgue is inexpressible, a feeling that I dare not wish you to ever feel.
The next day my uncle came, he took me to his house in a distant city, a place that I had never known. You people said he was so generous, so good. But the truth so far from it. I left all my dear friends here, everything that made me and went with him. Two years I spent in his house, years that I dare not relive. He introduced me to a powdery substance, which gave me a sensation, a feeling of euphoria. I didn’t feel the pain, the thoughts of my parents and friends didn’t cross my mind. I don’t remember much that happened next but I just know something wrong happened. I spent days inside a dark room, a small window at the other end.
Then one day everything changed, I was hauled up to the police station. My uncle was sitting there, handcuffed. I served a jail sentence of about six months for illegal possession of drugs and I was freed, a freedom from fetters of my uncle. I heard that my uncle was in prison serving a sentence for a fraud he had done in his company.
I went to a rehab. After few months they released me. I came back and found my father’s account spotlessly clean, all money deposited in my uncle’s account.
Yes, their was a time when I had more drugs in blood than water, I made my heart age faster than anyone else and I have a past that I wish not relive.
I suffer silently,
And feel the gut wrenching pain,
The lashes of which buries deep into my skin.
But then the spirit to fight back,
Emerges slowly,
The weapon for which surfaces next,
And thus I survive,
To thrive once more.
A depression so profound,
Pulling me into it,
Is a unknown force.
I am slogging hard,
Trying to free myself,
But the force mightier than me.
A sense of unaccomplishment,
A fear of failure engulfing me,
And plunging deeper I am,
Into this world of darkness.
I don’t wish to be the tear that escapes your eye,
Kill me if I ever be.
I just want to be the morning sunshine that kisses your bare skin,
When you wake up beside me.
I desire to be the drop of rain,
That trickles down your face,
Lightly touching your lips.
I hope to become a hand that holds you through,
And wings that help you fly.
Our first and last meeting was here in this brothel. I don’t know whether you remember me or this place that you frequently visited, but I remember you, your every bit, everything about you. Before you, there were men, who touched my body, felt it and left. Then one day you came. You added a zing to my life. Before you, I wondered that, if my body is the address of my soul then how do people just leave this house without knowing the person leaving inside. You never objectified me. I told you everything that I have ever thought or felt, my naked soul poured itself out before you, a certain warmth in your skin compelled me to do so. I waited for you, through the day, your presence was like a bright light in this dark place.
Then one day you stopped coming here. I heard that you have got married. Now, my thoughts are greatly divided, though I search for your face through the crowd that gathers outside this brothel but I don’t want to see you. The trust, the fidelity that every girl desires, I wish, you give it to your wife. I still seek that similar warmth of your skin and yearn for those hands that would touch my soul and hit a string deep down. However I dare not find you again in this place, so that your faithfulness remains with the girl you truly love.
Life at 17 