Free

Her Tree

The building lit by the sun’s glare, People walking through the aisles, I gazed through the window, Thoughts pouring in my mind. The sky embellished with clouds, Curtained the sun time by time. The glare slowly took over, They drifted further over miles. Seeking shelter from the truth’s glare, I hid under the tree of lies. Covered by the shade, I still scorched in my feelings inter wined.

And then, the tree fell and the glare too. I burned in the flames I ignited. I lay on my ashes, As I slowly trapped myself in the darkness of night. Returning from its exile, The sun emerged piercing my veins, I smiled as I watered a tree, The roots hidden in the soil of the avenges’ reign.

~ark

The Real World

In the world of lies, She lied too. In order to survive, She smiled too. All the relations formed, On the foundation of the feelings suppressed, Blinded by the fake world, She lost her conscious and herself. The artificial skin worn once, Was now a part of what she called her own. Afraid to be alone, Being a part of darkness, She couldn’t bear the light which made her true self being shown. The world she was born in, Ripped her bare, calling it an act of kindness. Their plan about to begin, They smiled at her while the mask hid their evil grin. She laid bleeding alone, Blending in the darkness of her hidden sins.

~ark

Guilt

The urge to remain where we are, not wanting to move, not wanting to change and then feeling guilty for not achieving, for not changing, for not beginning, for not ending, for not continuing.

Standing in front of the mirror yet avoiding it to not witness the failure achieved, to avoid the reflection of the coward who refused to give the best, who chose to ignore everything.

The guilt of not putting efforts and then reading the disappointed expressions hidden beneath the acts of consolation. To show that you worked when you never did and when they say, “At least you gave your best. That’s what matters” 

How do you break it to them? How do you present your cowardness, your lethargy, your unfaithfulness. And then, you opt for a path you never thought you would take. You become something with a void building within. All the emotions that were never expressed eventually stop hurting, they become a habit. The void gradually growing consumes all the emotions leaving a creature too selfish to even care. Showing acceptance for something you should’ve fought harder for but you leave it, you leave yourself where you were.

But in all of this, one thing remains,

The guilt of not feeling guilty. The constant war to define it, to categorise it as justification or an excuse. But these words seem inappropriate, what do you think would fit?

Cowardice, distracted, remiss or the inertia of not moving ahead from the information to know the difference to the wisdom of making one?

I Must Be

I have to be relatable to be seen,

I must feel the same to be heard.

I have to be patient and listen to their empty words,

I must be caring to make them feel like home.

I must remain unknown to make them known.

I have to make them feel happy,

I must compliment their flaws.

Standing in the courtroom,

I must face a trial for breaking the laws.

I should have a bad memory,

Forgetting everything

And move on,

I must apologise for not becoming their lifeless doll.

~ark

Belonging

I let people go while I hold onto things. People drift apart, flowing rivers and I remain a shore, holding onto their fragments. The letters they wrote, the illustrations, the conversations, I preserve them, becoming soil, fertile and fruitful.

I hold onto memories, capturing the person I know would change eventually. Who finds the same person twice even in the same person anyway?

So, thereby, my efforts are never focused on caging the flowing river rather, take a part of it and make it a part of mine. 

Be it good or bad, I absorb everything to nurture my being, to experience bliss and pain, to experience fertility, to experience solitude when called barren.

The rivers become a medium of change sometimes, I flow through them, my silt deposited where it didn’t belong but still absorbs in it, becoming a part of something different yet I remain different. 

I wonder whether my identity of being silt was just an imagination. Being a human, I must be a river, ever flowing, irrigating fields of livelihood, ever changing, giving and taking yet never keeping.

But that’s where the difference came. I too give and take but after making it mine. 

I possess; hence, I belong. I belong; hence, I remain trapped.

With a glint in her eyes, hungry to be heard and loved, looked around herself, she was all alone, all by herself.

She had no major problems in her life nor did she want all eyes on her. It was a search for a pair of eyes, deep as an ocean, for she could drown in them and vanish.

With stories unwritten, she remained responsible, priorities remained unhinged. But it was there in her mind somewhere, to weave a beautiful story once, from her memories and not from her imagination.

Undefined

The noise of the world penetrated within, Settling deep inside,  Trying to stir the dead silence that hung,  Hiding beneath the mask of peace.

I never knew why but a sense of void grew, A hollow too stubborn to consume me and not contain me.

I remained indifferent, a way to run away, Forgetting, remembering, cherishing, regretting, Thoughts like water, flowing through my fingers, trying to cage them.

In this whirlwind of life, The feeling of being lost lingered, The fear of messing up,  The embarrassment of being monotonous,  Being too weak to overcome, being too stubborn to move on.

Forcing myself to understand everything, To make sense, to become understandable. Not being too loud, not too silent, Nothing extreme, to avoid attention.

I kept searching for definitions, A way to find meaning of something in my life, A way to define myself, But maybe,  I was fluid, changing itself with changing places.

Too difficult to be bound by boundaries, Yet too soluble, To completely dissolve in me to feel me To be with me was to be contaminated by me An existence, to be ignored for being a necessity; valued in scarcity, A shape, full, but never whole. A story remembered but never told.

~ark

Diminishing Hope

I let myself suffer,

With intentions that were never pure.

Standing at the piedmont of growth,

I felt my feet frozen, unable to move anywhere.

My eyes scanned both the ways,

Walking onto which, my survival would be declared.

Afraid of the extremes,

I chose to never try, I turned away with shun ears.

Lacking the courage to fight for my life,

I stood freezing gradually, I faced my fears.

Melting by the newly found energy,

I became essential, drops of water to be shared.

Known to the fact of being fatal,

I returned from my illusions unreal.

In the diminishing hope of reality,

My pain defined me,

The master of my endless prayers.

~ark

And then, I found home in an unfamiliar voice, And peace in the familiar noise.

~ark

Blinded Eyes

I trusted my eyes blindly,

I guess that's what humans do.

But my illusion shattered,

As the pigments of lies,

Reflected the fictitious truth.

The light was biased, I believed,

But its innocence was trapped in an endless loop.

Refusing to bow before the unproven facts,

I decided to perceive it with a different view.

I tried to become a pigment myself,

Reflecting my sins into actions my apathy sew.

But the law of the cosmos remained constant,

I surrendered, confessing to my vengeance's coup.

~ark