Some call it a kind of mental sickness When you aren’t like others around you When your thoughts and actions do not reflect What others perceive to be true When your actions are simply deemed weird And you’re treated differently in the lieu Of being the bearer of divergence Posing a threat to the world view When you’re unable to understand How into a weed instead of a flower you grew And a collection of stones begins to form around Due to them being thrown constantly at you Because the wiring inside of your head simply Isn’t like anyone you ever knew Sometimes even you are convinced that You are a part of the “mad” few
In a perfect world, without stigma Where a spark of uniqueness is celebrated Being a little crazy is a good thing and Being normal is considered over rated When a society chooses to embrace all its People and they live their lives integrated Then the few who are different feel Accepted and not deliberately segregated The ability to be receptive towards others Is often overlooked and underestimated With understanding and embracing our differences We learn to not create the differentiated Folk with a creative bend who seem “mad” Who are with a different wiring created Are given a platform to be themselves and bring a Unique take on things to become the appreciated
Leaving you behind in the past Left a gaping hole in my soul And forever I’ll remain incomplete Never again will I be whole Broken hearts rarely mend and On their owners take a toll So I left behind much more than a heart That was no longer my own
A register full of complaints A bag of belittling memories A lot of unnecessary drama A notebook of forgotten melodies A bed filled with crumbled dreams A pocket full of faded sunshines A set of your clothes that I’d worn A book of love poems and rhymes A multitude of ideas about love A life that was no longer my own A conundrum that protected you A risk of being left all alone A tired and haggard soul A joke that I’d slowly become for you All the games you played with my mind An abusive existence known to very few
In the decade that we spent together I lost track of who I was inside You still felt the need to seek another While slowly pushing me aside Kicked to the curb like a cur I still somehow found the will to survive I pray that our paths never cross again That life for us never coincides
After the war the boots were invited To break bread with the Earl They were made to eat on silverware that Had been polished till it shone like pearls. Uncomfortably they twitched while Seated on elegant silver chairs Unaware of what to do with the several Pieces of shining silverware . Realising they were uneasy the Earl asked The forks and plates to be removed And proceeded to dip hunks of bread In the spicy broth and soup . The boots ate to their hearts content And thanked the Earl for the meal . They were happy he had not embarrassed them By making their lack of elegance a big deal. “Your contribution is far too great for this to Be of any consequence at all,” he smiled and said “Your lives are far too precious than Any number of loaves of bread “. They said, “We thought why would an Earl Care about a couple of hired guns “ “We are glad you’ve been so considerate This was a lot of fun “.
The thunder brings hope, joy and life Ending the gnawing from the burning heat Torrent rain floods the earth and sky Puddles invite frogs while slaking the thirst Of the arid, parched, dried land seeking A refuge, a revival and a renewal To rebirth lush greens, flora and fauna .
For Every time you caught me when I fell Every moment you stood firmly by my side Every second you put things together Every instance you made right Every dream that you nurtured Every fault you casually brushed aside Every occasion you saved me from disaster Every bad situation you again made bright Every setting you carefully predicted Every crunch set right when my hands were tied Every shred of strength you provided Every twinkle in my eye Every hour you spent worrying about me Every thoroughly examined but forgotten lie Every naughty and silly behaviour forgiven Every achievement spoken of with pride Every rough surface that you smoothened Every secret I was able to in you confide Every breath that is a blessing from you Every tear you helped dry Mamma..... I am, because you are .
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I think I’ve led a life of complete denial In a pretence of being happy when I was miserable I cradle my broken childhood like my scattered dreams Only to a select few making them visible
I pen poems to escape the clutches of harsh reality And hide the storms and thunders stirring inside my heart I press my love inside an old journal as unsent letters That weirdly end in tears ripping me apart
Before we could be together, we parted ways And I came to live a life of loneliness and pain For me the stars in your eyes shall live longer than history An existence of arid lands devoid of rain
I often muse that sufferings are soft taps of life That remind us of the frivolous nature of felicity We lose people in the hope of one day discovering That it was all for our own supposed prosperity
Set A 1. Denial 2. Miserable 3. Weird 4. Before 5. Pen
Set B 1. I pressed my love inside an old journal 2. The stars in your eyes shall live longer than history 3. I cradle my broken childhood 4. The storm and thunder stirring inside your heart 5. Sufferings are soft taps of life