Tag: Loneliness

  • Trembling a Life

    My eyes stop at the passage of time,
    but all they perceive is a pushing, all around;
    everyone is moving somewhere,
    but nobody knows where, or why.

    I try to deny the lie
    that I am just another part of this life —
    but the thoughts answer back again:
    everyone is trying to deal with the same.

    Holding a tail of fire,
    they fail in their tries to cool the pain;
    they try to live their way —
    but this is not the far-off battle of life.

    I glance at the sky,
    and wonder what the driver of the sky wants;
    dust in every eye, all around,
    yet they shout out the lies of their rightness.

    Everything passes by,
    until only this hazy world remains;
    I stop myself at that point,
    and linger, wondering at this life.

  • Chasing Old Dreams

    The long time, and the long way —
    but all I feel has passed in a few short hours;
    all is clear, yet forgetting turns melancholic,
    and still I walk, instead of tempting loneliness.

    Instead of tagging the best moments of life,
    all I hold is a restless struggle with myself;
    it began with the start, toward an end —
    but with the endless journey of arguments,
    day after day passes, like an inheritance.

  • As I Grow

    Once, I played with toys;
    now I am a toy for others.
    I loved diving into the mud;
    now I am scared of every colour.

    Life was as easy as a video game —
    and all I do now is cry;
    I lost more of myself as I grew up.

    It was all parties and joy;
    now it all shows the odds against you.
    The sleepless night before the day of the trip
    turned to sleeplessness in anger and agony.

    Laughter had no other reason; no —
    a crying devil before every fake smile.
    Hardest, once, was working hard —
    then it became working hard just to die.

    Every day was once another smile.
    I always knew the world had different faces,
    but it was never such a heavy thought
    as it is now, as I grow up.

  • Across the Street

    We are trying every way to reach,
    a new day starting with a shadow of cloud;
    rushing to the end of the planet, but dispersed
    off the life living across the street.

    We are flying high, with fear nearby,
    and like every time, time flees;
    but little do we care, and less we look —
    and it builds a sea across the street.

    Are we blind, or just insecure?
    Or are we building a planet of floors?
    A few more takes, and the end is there —
    still so far, from across the street.

    We are trapped behind the ego,
    living life on the stage of a show;
    colours are lost into shades of darkness,
    and we cry alone, across the street.

  • A Day Is Lost

    Passing away with the dusk, wondering a while about the day;
    I hope to see the dawn again —
    but after the darkness, a day is lost.

  • Like a Shadow

    Everywhere I go, they follow me like a shadow;
    every time I try to forgive myself, they point back at me. Every day they burn my other self, and alone, I only hope to match them…

  • Crowd Has Many Faces

    I am someone’s lover,
    and bereft of another;
    I am a teller of truth,
    and an edge of sham.

    I am a crowd of people,
    yet aware of none;
    I am a dream to people,
    and a nightmare to the lonely.

    I am a hunger and a sorrow,
    starving for my desires;
    I am a hope and an agony,
    and the pretender of life.

    I am the part of a few mornings,
    but in lieu of some mourning;
    I renounce the grimaces —
    yet still, the crowd has many faces.

  • He Breaks Me

    So blindly we move to act,
    and so did I —
    chasing a fleeting comfort,
    slipping, somehow, into the dark.

    It preys upon my ruin,
    leaving wounds that never close;
    I scream, I cry, I beg for help,
    but it tears me down, again and again.

    I run from him, undone,
    a crowd gathers to watch — never to help —
    and he breaks me, again and again.

    And it is never only once:
    I live it every single day —
    that face, watching me, merciless,
    while I, helpless as ever, go numb and weep.

    Facing him, again and again,
    he laughs at every tear;
    the more I break, the more he revels,
    as he draws the very life out of me.

    He plays it out; I go numb just hearing it.
    He fills my veins with his poison,
    and now I lean on him to save me —
    the one who ruins me… will he ever help?

    So strange this world is,
    so artificial, all of them;
    some have hidden from their own sanity —
    cowards, every one.
    And I…

  • The Moon

    It sits so gently in the sky,
    looking down at me and saying,
    “I care about you, my friend;
    I am missing you, my lover.”
    A million voices call to it —
    the moon, but still so silent, and alone…

    “I am something for you, everything for you;
    look at me, and weave your dreams.
    I am into you, without a clue —
    don’t look away, I hold dreams for you.”
    I hope not to rule, but as a friend, to help you —
    the moon, but still so fascinating, so thrilling…

    “I am far away from you in distance,
    but I am there, inside your heart;
    your lover asks me to care for you,
    and you ask me to look out for her.
    I am the keeper of souls — for them” —
    the moon, shining slyly with the sun’s light…

    “I am love, and a vampire’s temple;
    I hold the depth of the sea, the plains of darkness.
    I owe a favor to repay — a dark night of eclipse,
    to live one endless night, and lay down all my pride,
    looking for a place to face my loneliness” —
    the moon, the high sky’s hope of harness…

  • भीड़ कुछ ज़्यादा है

    ना जाने क्यों भीड़ कुछ ज़्यादा है!
    मैं खो न जाऊँ इसमें कहीं!
    जब हम भी अनसुना करते थे —
    आज हम भी हुए, तो ऐसा क्या है!
    ना जाने इस बार क्या ख़ास बात है…

    अकेले-से दिख रहे हैं चेहरे कई,
    कुछ कह रहे हैं, लेकिन कई कुछ नहीं;
    लगता है, भीड़ की तन्हाई ही ऐसी है।

    ना जाने क्यों भीड़ कुछ ज़्यादा है;
    सोचता हूँ, मैं भी भीड़ ही बन जाऊँ —
    अपने जाने-पहचाने कुछ चेहरे थे,
    बेगानी-सी भीड़ में छुपे हैं, वो भी।

    ना जाने इसमें क्या बात है —
    भीड़ में खोए हम, तब भी कुछ याद है;
    भूले नहीं जिसे हम कभी भी,
    वही हमारी तन्हाई की याद है।

    ना जाने क्यों भीड़ कुछ ज़्यादा है;
    हैं इस इंतज़ार में हम भी, मगर —
    शायद कोई पुकारे भीड़ से हमें,
    तोड़े ये पल-पल मारता अँधेरा।