Seconds ,minutes,moments-Time!.

On a lonely island my character stood erect
Without twerking he followed the sound of water,
Unaware of the noise in the world
He lifted his hands high above. 

                 He counted days while his age wrinkled,he looked at the flower and dived in the ocean ..

My herion has her own vegas ,
She looks extra ordinary in texas
She is unaware of the realities
But still she goes with the imaginations.

               She is in smiluacra ;she is ignorant. She will let go every hatred if she hits the target.

My kid wanted to be a super hero
As time went he grew as a man.
Long live the cycle he became old.
And the super hero was murdered.

            He could have flied like a bat man,if ever  in his fate was it written. He could have kissed a girl ,if  he could have heart of gold…

Life gets to exit without looking at entrance
Death is the co text of it.
Nothing remains constant
And it goes like tick tock tick

Creating seconds minutes and moments
In which life is bliss death is faraway
Its a criminal for its a stop
Its the time that gets buried away.


Summer is on the edge,re-union for winter .
Leaves scatter away showing the corpses.

Sky is gray like the ashes of burnt paper
I meet new people; pictures raise.

I cannot see the glass :I am blind
I can smell the terror:I am ignorant.

Words are  their to make pressure.
Pursuit of death rises to heights.

I see myself perfect but they smirk.
I ignore my bad but they spot the light..

I try to be explicit : they need essays
I  am numb: they need me to flow.

I am loving it:I am clueless
They suck my blood:I let go

Life is the gas in balloon
Death is the sound of bullet

Words are their to make pressure
Pursuit of death rises to heights.

Frozen heart!

Its not about shakespeare’s use of pathos. Its about my wretched heart. Its not my mistake ;
that I am mature its my pride that I  am an individual. With the fingers of my hand, I hold my phone straight to my eyes. I see words appearing before me in black. The cross button on my phone helps me erase the words,which  I dont want the people know. But is there  any rubber for heart too?

I didnt had any nest inside me that could harbour a dream.a dream which let me leave my home. And what more unfortunate,that home became just a travelling holiday.

Skies turned to  grey colour and I met new people. I couldnt find anyone closer to me then myself. I write because ,yes I feel lonely sometimes.  People have backstabbed me. Been rude to me but then I am same. I refuse to be socially active now.not because I am unaware of my qaulities but because I feel ignored. I watch them go in  hands and I see mine foreever alone. I dont mind being alone all life with my ink and paper but it pierces my heart deep down.

But I am proud of myself. I am me because I am not like others. I dont believe in materialism. I love being alone in a crowd. I have a smile all over my face. And will have when I publish my work. They cant handle even a minute of my life for its perfect and working.

Heart had a good riddance from hatred,but the lesser I moved out the stronger it grew.i want to move out from this silence,break down the inferiority walls and smile like never before.