Best friends

​Best friends, they call themselves –

All of the same feather;

Delving deep

Into the bottom

Of the insides

Where happiness lingers,

Care blossoms,

And pain vanishes,

Planting lies

Into the soil

Of trust.


Life is full of smiles,

Love, care, hope.

Life is a celebration,

With the like-mindedness

 Of people around.

Until one point, when

The truth is finally let out

In the open

To let know

That the most sacred place

Within the heart

Has been tainted

With betrayal,

The untold truth,

The way things turned out

That has damaged

The capacity

To trust any person

Ever again.

Money

Money comes and goes,

So do people;

When they require money,

They get reminded

Of you

Who never denies a thing

Who gives whatever is asked

Who thinks

From the perspective

Of the other end

Who also needs money

To go ahead with life,

But is willing to contribute

To lessen the burden

Of a so-called ‘friend’.

But, there is no such thing

In this world

As a true friend

Who can be trusted –

All whom you trust

Cannot be your friend,

All of your friends

Cannot be trusted;

Life is hard for some, yes,

But all you see

Is that they refuse to give you

What belongs to you;

Never must you ever again

Try to reason

With your stupid mind;

Never think

That they’re in need;

Never again empathize,

Because there is no one in this world

Who reciprocates,

Except, probably a rare few

That will return the money

That is asked not to return

At once

Upon encountering any difference of opinion

Indicating that there is nothing more left

To do

Than drift apart.



Free

​This is me 

Giving up

On everyone

Who had ever been there

For me in difficult times.

This is me 

Giving up

All the memories,

The times spent together,

Which will never be had again.

This is me,

Giving up

On all things

That seem to

Control me.

I’m finally breaking free

From all the bonds

That had bound me

Down to the earth.

Now I’m free to fly

Over the sky

Where I shall disappear

As a tiny dot.

Away, for good.

Plants are better

It’s better

To not have any friends

Than to have those

That fail to understand you;

Those that believe

With all their heart

About something

You never quite meant.

It’s better to have a plant

As a friend

That will never talk to you

Nor hurt you

With all the disbelief

That it can afford.

Even if you don’t water it,

It only sheds leaves 

As tears,

But later grows well

To bring a smile 

On your face.

At least it can be there for you

And listen silently

To your tales of sorrow

Unlike the friends

Who misunderstand

And leave.

Gem

​You might be the most precious gem

Made

With the rarest of elements

The universe has to offer

Found

In the deepest trenches

The oceans have hidden within them

Given

To the most mediocre of folks

To have and preserve as an asset

Freed

From one of the darkest places

Towards the skies, where you belong.

No way

​Unless 

There is a way

From under the ocean,

To reach the sky

Where the stars shine,

Unless

There is a ray

Of light

Coming from a candle

Glowing inside,

Unless

There is a path

Leading to the heavens

From the backstairs,

Unless

There is a drama

Which can be perceived

Without judgement,

Unless 

There is a song

That can be sung out loud

In the rain, in the snow,

And in the darkness,

Where I reside,

Expressing the pain,

There is no hope

Of getting any better

At overcoming

This feeling

Of having no one

To fill this gap,

To wipe the tears,

To say it’s okay,

To have a shoulder to weep on,

To have a friend

In this world

Of judgemental people.

Pearls

​I can swim in the ocean

Pick out the best of pearls 

Take them out from their shells

For you,

But all you can remember

Is the one time

I absent-mindedly

Threw away one.

Now I know

To not pick any pearl

For anyone ever again.

No one

​There’s no one left,

Nothing at all;

Not one 

To encourage, to care, to love.

Here, standing

In the shade of the void,

At the edge of salvation..

In the long term of life,

Many had helped,

In times of need,

Gratefulness remains

Until the last breath –

To those who had helped

Heal physical scars;

As for the invisible ones,

They may never heal,

For,

In this ocean-deep sorrow

That drenches mountains together

They do not disappear

With a flick of the finger.

As days pass,

The torment only grows,

For,

There is nothing in this world

That can cure

Like a selfless, loving heart;

One which is rarest to find

In this world

Where humans take advantage

Of everything

That tries to stay kind

And does not harm.

In a world where no one

Feels the pain 

Of a friend;

Where, on public opinion,

Being able to insult someone

Is the best that friendship can offer.

Whereas,

Being there,

Trying to be kind to them

Is something that’s 

Out of fashion.

And still acting,

Like best pals, friends of old,

Forgetting the past

Where opinions had not been important,

One may never even foresee

The future

That brazenly lies

Before their eyes.

It will never be easy

Mingling with people

Who pinpoint, judge and ridicule

Your every move,

And yet,

Call you a friend.




Someone to care

​As thunder struck by my windowsill,

I looked through the window,

And wondered where you are.


Droplets touched the earth below

In a hectic frenzy

Probably searching for you.


The lightning was bright and tall,

Frequently disturbing the black

Looking in the dark for you.


The storm lasted the whole night

Waves of the sea thrashing on the shore,

Desperately for you.


The rain finally receded,

Thinking, it might, with its cold raindrops,

Drench you.


A dull sun came up next morning,

As it mourned, for you

Hiding behind the clouds.


But none of them know the truth

But I; that you’re otherworldly,

You don’t exist.


Still, a tiny flame of hope 

Lights my dark heart

An irrational one, for sure.


That I can reach the sky,

Touch the clouds,

And find you.


What others have failed,

I will do.

I will finally find you.


What is a figment of my imagination

Will one day be true,

That’s when this emptiness ends.

Interval

​This interval is what bothers me.

The minutes that follow,

The silence that settles,

The confusion, the chaos..

Every mistake, 

Resounding like an echo;

And as the end of every week

Or month

Draws near,

And expectations arise,

And memories conjured

Of happy moments

Seeming like things of the past,

Like pieces of a mirror

Reflecting a broken self;

And coming back

To this interval

That follows.


Like a trench in the ocean

Seeming long forgotten

But always looked out for,

As time flies by,

This interval grows;

On the other side of this interval,

Is hope, 

Of a renewed friendship,

Of bonds of eternal care;

And I shall wait,

Silently,

In awkwardness and guilt,

For what I’ve done,

Trapped in this interval

Of nothingness

That will extend 

Until what seems

Like the end of time.