There lays a patch of sky A little jealous of its neighbourhood Draped in solitude And here I stand Under so many lights, A festive crowd Yet the blues above my head, Feels no less than a stranger I long for the skies Where there is no light From the firecrackers But a patchwork of stars, Looking for their soulmates
Dear empty skies, May you find a home Like I found in you Where emptiness is not outcasted Where every ounce of your soul is embraced
~M e g h a //Festivity
Too much of noise. Please don't hurt the stray animals. Festivals are to spread kindness
@writersnetwork I don't know if you'll read this but I want to say thank you for a lot of reasons, not just for the reposts. Thank you
In God's grey reign Where perfection Is a lie, I stand 17 summers later Nurturing a sunflower in my palms And grey promises on my forehead Growing up Feels like painting a sunset On wooden fences, You never get the colours right Or planting a skyline On both sides Of an uneven smile Growing up is a story Whose end is a two-way street, But your feet are heavy From carrying the weight, Of faint memories While your name Is baptised by the clouds Growth knocks on your foggy windows An apocalypse disguised as home Growing up is a poetry Metamorphosing to a song A Vangogh's sky in the making, A dried paintbrush, A dull panorama And it's okay, If your painting, Is not an art Remember, In God's grey reign All artists Have a story But growth, Is an abstract poem
~M e g h a / Growing up is like painting a sky picture
Sad. Wandering in dark alleys, in freezing cold winters, it's always easy to escape of that lone tear, yearning hard, to flow down my rough cheeks. The clacking sound of my boots adds to that melancholy melody, that helped me make it out, through the crowd of forlorn people. I do not know, the accuracy of someone's feelings because the sun doesn't bring happiness to all of us; like for me, it just strains my eyes, making it hard for me to come out of my comfortable bed which I know has cuffed the freedom of my recovery, from the fear of things, I pretend to be unaware of.
The warmth that I had found, after being handcuffed to the laziness in me, is transient, and would take me to the grave where neither you would visit me with chrysanthemums nor there would be a dandelion plantation, and I do not like to cling onto the hope, of having a visitor.
Comfort. The essence of an embrace, or the warmth I once found in someone's word might have been lost or faded, the way colors of rainbow fade in the sky where they appear like the way we live here to die in the end? I sit under the sky, until the invisible stars in the daylight finally, become distinct in the dark; finding that warmth in the sun rays which strain my eyes or beneath the torn blanket of stars, but then I am habituated, of returning empty handed, giving myself to the shackles of my bed.
Fear. Loneliness. I question myself, looking in the mirror, and I ask the same questions, I used to answer with a silent smile on the outside with the will to disappear, running in my arteries. How many weekends, have you sat cross-legged, taking the support of a white wall seeing yourself in the mirror; highly caffeinated, introspecting yourself, questioning your worth and your existence? The mere thought of losing out and not being able to achieve my daily goals makes me lose my breathe, and here I begin to cry and make an excuse, how I had no one by my side, pushing me to work on myself, and giving me a hand to pull me out of the pit, which I have started considering my house!
How I kept waiting, sitting by the window for someone to help me out of that loneliness but what if it's just the wind that caressed me and the sun rays that embraced me? I know the wait will not be worth it, the wind must have whispered, and the sun must have screamed that it's just me who could help me out of that hole, I miserably fell into. Even after several non-vocalised battles, between the hemispheres of my brain, I still feel a lacuna of thoughts inside me. A loneliness that makes me, scratch my hands and hair; offering me a desire to vanish, disappear and fade away. and everyday when I walk a step closer, to the fulfillment of an unfulfilled desire, I get far away from myself, and from the infinite abyss, which I no longer belong to. So, I am finding directions, of a place where it all ends with an added uncertainty that does that place exist? -nitrousoxide