Being Human

I’m tired
Tired of this world
And the people who dwell here
Cladded in embellished silk
Chattering and laughing in their lofty mansions.
I’m tired of this world
And its ugliness
No, not the one you see in slums
But the kind you only see
Behind their closed gold doors
And royal gardens
And sick mentality
And punk social sertup.
I’m tired of carrying the weight
Of merely being a human
It’s so nerve wracking
It’s so stressful
And helpess too
When I see a child
Across the road
Begging for money
A wretched sight indeed
His obnoxious presence
Makes them frown
They say his vile odour
Contaminates the air
That child I can see
Is deprived of love, food and decent clothes
His torn shoes
Give me goosebumps
But I must not go near a ‘thing’
So dirty and scarred
I must keep my distance
So the ugliness keeps its distance from me
That’s what they say
So I take their word
I hand him a 10 rupee note
As if he can buy
A whole meal with that
Shaking the thoughts I go on,
Look out the window again
Only to see
Another child
Yet another one,
More of them,
Children;
So many children
Then widows,
Diseased,
And drug addicts
And then I see myself
And Wonder
If I am really different from them
I know I’m not
I’m torn like them
The only difference is
Their brokenness is visible
Mine, I keep it hidden
I must keep it this way
So that they never know
So that no one can ever know
How convergent we all fundamentally are
Yet we fake as if
We all can never be equal
Indifferent entities
Indifferent humans
Drunk on the ideas
Of superiority and pretentiousness
A pity indeed
But also
A heart-breaking spectacle
For all I know
Afterall
I’m a human too
And I’m tired of it.

Darker Shade of Gray

My eyes are heavy from the last night’s crying
But I must pretend I’m happy and definitely not trying

I’ve lost what I once owned with all my pride
Name, fame, peace and the gleeful ride

The nostalgia hits me up as I lay down to sleep
So I stay up and my fears chase me like a creep

They say I’m hopeless and so is my life
Let me do a trick please pass me the knife

But I should stay strong or atleast fake a bit
For the world despises the one who isn’t mentally fit

It’s time to get over my lil’ heartbreaks
C’mon people have dealt with greater time-shakes

They tell me to love what I have today
For tomorrow could always be a darker shade of gray

Colder than the Freezing Kitchen Floor

Came across this piece in my notepad app a.k.a the hub of my miscellaneous-unfinished-notes; it’ll probably remain like this forever. An excerpt from something which is equally unknown to me as it might be to anyone else.

3 a.m:

Her back slid against the wall
With her Bare feet and naked soul
She sat on the freezing kitchen floor
With an urge to explore
Her brusies well secured
She is unknown to herself now
Her skin is not free of the old scars
But she has learned to hide them well
Her mind is boggled up
She is ever messed up
The coldness is searing onto her body
She seems but unflinched
Maybe because she’s numb
Or perhaps because,
Her soul is colder than the freezing kitchen floor!

Moribund

What do I do?
Where do I go?

Whom should I consult?
Why do peeps insult?

Why am I lost?
How much did my soul cost?

What makes me so tired?
What was it that I desired?

Sigh sigh. But why sigh?
Gosh! Am I again high?

High on insomnia
Perhaps it’s hypersomnia

Darn, I followed my inner voice
I thought it was the only choice

And you, like always, I pushed away
Not long after you first said Hey!

Now there’s no hope, no ray
Maybe now I should pray

And then again dwell in despair
The damage I’ve caused is beyond repair

My life is like the dust on shelf
I’m again losing my torn self

To find it dead at the other end
To find it dead at the other end.