Boast

No, they do not want to know

The hurdles you’ve crossed,

The places where you’d been hurt,

The tragic way

You’ve fallen,

How nightmares have scared you,

How you’ve cried yourself

To sleep

On those nights of pain;

No, they do not want

To know your struggles,

Your lonesome days,

Or your extreme fears;

All they want to hear

Is you’re never going to be better

Than they had ever been,

That you’re lower

Than them,

That they have always been

Your only hope

To a better life;

All they want to show

Is their wealth,

That they’re in a better situation,

Than you have ever been,

That you are dust

On comparison;

All they’ve ever wanted

Was to brag

And boast

In front of people 

Who never cared a bit.

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Illusion

As if there are fire torches

In an underground cavern,

As if there are stars

On a moonless night,

As if there are roses

In a barren desert,

As if there are flecks of hope

In moments of despair,

Here I am,

Trapped in this illusion,

As if there’s love

Amdist all the well-concealed hate.

Pretense

A fake smile,

Some small talk,

Not the weather, not the stars,

But a display of neglect,

Insult and gasconade​;

Clashes

Resulting from comparison,

A few snarky comments,

A fake laugh to cover it all up;

Is there no end 

To this pretense?

Hiding the truth

Having someone

Who admits upfront

The hatred towards you,

Hurts you,

And always complains

About you

Is better

Than having one

Who tries to smile at you,

Pretends to care,

And yet,

Makes you see

Only one side

Of the truth.


Edit: Coincidence is finding this line in the book I was reading –

Pierce

All these days

It has been repeated

Without hesitation

That a mistake

Has been done;

Every now and again,

Like a sharp knife

Piercing the heart

As blood oozes out

Dripping along

While running away,

Trying to escape

This place of torment,

From the blame, the accusation

As it hurts so much

Knowing to have been a burden

In all of life;

If letting in

Was a mistake,

The price has been paid,

For, every now and then

There is a new accusation

Which is capable of breaking a person

Entirely;

But whatever happens,

Though the knife is passed

Through this mortal body

Again and again,

And again,

Although this pain is unbearable,

Somehow,

If I’m still alive,

I shall come again,

Just so you can pass your knife through me

Again.

Waiting

​Waiting

Every moment

With utmost vigilance,

To capture in memory permanently

That one moment:

One sign

Of love –

One gesture

Of care –

From you,

Hoping

There are things

Left unsaid

Everyday I wait, thinking

That one day you’ll see

My honesty,

You’ll see

That I had always wanted

To be there,

That there had always been 

An empty space

That you hadn’t filled,

But that’s okay.

Still, I know

That there exists a tiny part

Of you

That loves me unconditionally

Like any father does

Their daughter;

Though you never show it to me,

I know it exists.



Soltitude

​Not having anyone

In this world

Who can do a favour

Or be of help

In times of grief

Or for moral support –

Not having a single being

Who knows better,

Who cares,

Spots the wiped-up tears,

Who can hear through the silence

The high-pitched cries of desperation –

Not having a person

To share

This immense sorrow

For which there’s no more space

In this chest

To contain and hide –

Is why soltitude is unbearable.

Guts

​Being alone,

In this merciless world,

Wanting destruction,

Complaining

About the cruelty

Of the current world,

Wanting to be taken

By death,

Not wanting anyone

By the side,

Pushing away

People who care,

Stepping on their kindness

And crushing

Without even knowing so

Requires guts –

Which you seem to have in plenty

Even at this age.

Death

​Death comes

Like waves from the depths of the ocean,

The lively, endless tides,

Urging to take you along;

Like an enormous eagle

Flying round and round

Over its prey

Spying, plotting

Before tearing it apart;

Death is,

Unexpected, but firm,

Strong,

Like the noose

Tightening one’s throat

Till the breath stops;

Like a letter that is written,

Addressed to you –

Beckoning you forward;

Death, my friend

Is the only thing

That humbles arrogance,

Tames adamancy,

Calms anger,

Heals all pain,

As a mask of serenity envelops you,

And bees come to feast

Slowly, followed by ants,

And a few other insects

Until vultures set their eyes

On your rotting carcass.

My only worry

Every single drop

Of your tears,

Being sharper than a knife –

Shatters me

Into a billion pieces;

All the silent moments,

Those of away-ness,

Days of no response,

Which is all we ever have,

Is saddening;

I realise

That you’ve suffered so much

That you’ve not laughed

With all your heart

Since decades;

Knowing that you will never laugh

The way you did before,

That you’ll never be as carefree

As you had once been,

Knowing that you will

Forever push away

Everyone who comes to help,

Saying they’re not worthy enough

Is why I’m unable

To do anything

But weep silently;

As this inability to be of help

Gnaws my insides

Little by little,

And I shall perish

Worrying about you, father,

Till my last day.