Pointless. (short poem)

painting my moments
with the hues of pointlessness
on the canvas of
a dying sense of achieving,
I gain strength
to besiege and carry you
into my world dwelled by
carefree breaths and caring souls…

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Wake-up Call.

Every day, I wake up. I can hardly imagine anything more futile than this. Waking Up.

I wake up. I get fresh. I bathe. Get dressed for my office. Have breakfast. Every day, I lock my almirah and walk to the same spot to catch a bus/autorickshaw. The same script is running since last three months. And I wonder why! People discover what they want from their life. And I can only wonder about the randomness life has to offer. I board the same train everyday and don’t know where it drops me.

What do I want from Life? Well, I know what I don’t want from life. I wake up not to earn MORE money. And I certainly don’t think I wake up to please anyone. I am a person who prefers walking down a silent lane with solitude as my only companion. I prefer picking up a good book on weekend. And what are my wishes? I could only wish life was a long long weekend.

Identity. (a poem)

a doer of sins
a hater of kins,
a wanderer spreading
his madness,
Who am I in these strange lands
of happiness and sadness…

a beggar of thoughts,
a defeat of battles fought,
a feather
of no breed,
Who am I in these strange lands
of trickery and greed…

a dying flower,
a wounded lover,
a broken piece
of heart,
Who am I in these strange lands
which set love apart…

a ray of light,
an ender of fight,
a shade beneath
the sun,
Who am I in these strange lands
of roses and guns…

a sack of smiles,
a keeper of viles,
a kin
in each foe,
Who am I in these strange lands
will I ever know?