The Songs That Belong To Us

there are songs that we tend to personalize

as if the artistes sung them just for us, 

they are some sort of cherished possessions, 

and when the come through the speakers, 

they awaken a memory, 

that ferries us to a distant island, 

we rise, we soar, we glide 

through the rhythm, 

and when we get to the island, 

we sit back and soak in the memory, 

right there, at that moment of impeccable solitude, 

nothing matters - not money, not riches 

just the pure bliss of knowing that no one else 

will ever know the purity of a simple song.

Don't Matter

We stood by the precarious edge of adulthood, 

Stole a glance at its ever inviting abyss, 

We counted days, months, years at that day, 

The day we would take a plunge into 

the ever secretive world - the world 

barricaded by adults

Numb

 don't you wish, on some occasions, 

that you would numb to all the voices

that silently scream in your head?

don't you wish you would numb 

the hopelessness that often grip you

on occasions you need extra strength?

 

don't you wish you would numb 

the overwhelming guilt 

that trips you when you make that step, 

the most important step?

 

don't you wish you could numb 

the paralysing fears and worries 

that exist in your head?

 

the chariots that you would ride, 

only need one word: numb

being numb to all the insignificant things 

that bog you down. 

Regrets

 regrets

grate the dreamless nights, 

the cool breeze turn into a 

spellbinding tornado, 

of a thousand 'should-have-dones'

millions should-have-nots, should-have-beens 

should-have-knowns, 

and when the tornado eases, 

you are just an empty shell, 

seeking solace among mortals

puzzled that they are still alive, 

almost against their will.

Small Wins

Small wins, 

as inconsequential as they seem, 

feels like fuel to an empty car, 

a few drops will get the car a few inches ahead 

and a few inches closer to the destination

celebrate them 

 

The Dreamer

 in the dark crevices of his mind

lies grandiose dreams, 

dreams as big as the universe

dreams as vast as space

as lays awake, the dreamer in him 

convulses with delight 

at the mere thought of glittering success

that would drive many mad with envy 

the dreams are like opium to him

he seeks them everyday, 

yet does very little to bring them to fruition 

 

Tommorow

there are days we never long for 

days that remind us of our existence

when all we want is forget how to breathe

but how do you even do that?

breathing, barring medical conditions, 

comes naturally to us 

call it default setting

except because tomorrow is another day 

that reminds us of failures both by 

commission and omission,

the wrongs things we did and the rights things we 

did not do 

of the wrong people we loved,

and the right people we neglected,

of the dreams yearn to live 

and the reality we are in 

as we breathe, we are constantly reminded that life 

does not make too much sense,

and we don't either