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
Once Again
There I stood,
Realising I repeated that once again.
No matter how hard I tried,
I still saw it returning from its exile.
My memory seems to disappear at the time,
Reappearing after the end.
I sighed pitying myself,
While I suffocated in regret.
I don't know what to do next,
I lost both energy and time.
Putting up my best smile,
I witnessed myself,
Missing my life's target,
In the process of erasing its lines.
~ark
Her Tears
Under the dark sky, She looked up with her eyes. She smiled wide when, The rays of light and thunder echoed through the grey. Knowing that the storm emerging slowly, Would destroy everything that will come in its way, She still stood there while her hair curtained her face. Droplets falling gently, She could breathe the sandy air. Uncovering the invisible layers, She rose above all her hidden fears. Forgetting all the mortal ties Throwing away her disguise Listening to her soul for the first time She could finally cry drenched by the tears of the immortal sky.
~ark
Sometimes I don't care about what people think, Because I've already thought about it on their behalf.
~ark
The Table
She sat on the table, She thought, she brought meaning to. But she was just an entertaining label, That was thrown away, The day her consciousness grew. She still sat on the same place, Not to make them feel what they lost, But because her identity belonged, To the people with her path once crossed.
~ark
Materialism is a lie. It is a delusional lie and it should not be leading the culture. Not when we are spiritual beings.
Gigi Young
The Right Abode
At the station of doubts, I looked for the wheels of the answer's train. Colliding with people alike, Our luggage carried the same weight. Watching many moving ahead, Towards their right abode, I tried to cater more time, hiding my defeated face.
I peeked inside each of the trains, Trying ensure that I wouldn’t drown, rather, someday sail. Lost in the lost crowd, I searched for an abode that my destiny had framed.
Finally, finding one down a new track, I tried to board it with all my luggage. The bags tossed away by the crowd, I found them etched with my fears’ name.
It was then I realised, I had ruined my life, Thinking they belonged to my unhealed pain.
~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?
The Memories
Here I faced them again, The people I knew. The memories I once considered a part of mine, Slowly accumulated the truth. The glimpses inter wined, Left me nostalgic, dilemma grew. I gradually travelled the journey, From smiling to fathoming the traps their eyes drew. Standing in the freedom’s queue, I yearned to see the old view. I chased the future, Dwelled in the past, I lost the present, time flew.
~ark
We used to be strangers,
Nothing was known, no memories.
I hope we had remained the same,
Because now nothing is left.
No bliss, no pain.
The Frame
In the frame, lies the memories, The memories of my life, Still unsure, whether the frame, Would be hidden in the dust of shame, Or decorated in the honor of the same. It would definitely remind me of my life, Left behind, the one that gave me a new life. Still unsure, whether the frame broken, Would be repaired or thrown, It'll remind me of their last words, Their nature or true colors shown, Their happiness or fake smiles, I'll remember the old days, While standing in the old aisles. I'll still long on the memories, The frame will behold. With my eyes through which tears, Of relief or regret would flow.
~ark