Earth.

How terrible
must a world be
for innocents to die
and rogues to live?
How terrible
must a world be
for just two words
to be able to sum it up?
“Me too.”

How terrible
must a world be
for hearts to be broken
and promises alike?
How terrible
must a world be
for girls to be raped
and guys to be demoralized?
How terrible
must a world be
for Aleppo to fall
and have disasters everywhere?

It must be
as terrible as
the world you and I
live in.


Previous post : Damn, your eyes.
Related post : This damn world.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

A pack of color pencils.

“Humans are fragile creatures made up of broken hearts and broken promises.” – Unknown

The water at the end of the dessert. That is what a promise is made of. It’s not real.

  1. Young Rue thought that Santa would send a present this year too. She had been a good girl. She had been nice to every one, and had done all her work. Every year she waited for a box wrapped in red paper with a small paper that read “As promised.” She had a deal with Santa. She had promised to be a good girl, and in return he had promised to bring her some of her favorite chocolates and new toys. She ran out of her room as soon as she woke up, but found no presents. Had she not been a good girl, or was Santa biased against orphans?
  2. Rue learned about how words could be carved into promises as she grew older. But she believed in people anyway. When he promised to be there for her every time she shattered into pieces, she smiled. She knew he would. But when everything around her crumbled, her life was a mess like the mascara flowing down her cheek, and she was drowning log in the high tide, he vanished like the sun on a winter day. Another empty promise, another broken heart, another normal day.
  3. With time, her words lost their meaning. She stopped believing, and forgot to keep her promises. She handed out assurances and promises like a pack of color pencils that would make your life colorful. But only while it lasted. And then she failed to do what she said, show what she meant, and be what she wanted. The colors ran out, and the pack was empty. A hole in her heart was yearning for someone to remind her what promises really are. Yearning for someone to make her believe.
  4. On a summer morning, she found the person looking at her through a dirty mirror. Brown eyes and dark hair with a new pack of color pencils in her hand.

Empty promises will break you. But you’ll always have at least one person who can love you. Be your own pack of color pencils. Look for the sword.

“She wasn’t waiting for a knight. She was waiting for a sword.” – Atticus


Previous post : Love thyself.
Related post : The thin line.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

The fallen stars.

The fallen stars.

“Have you seen a fallen star anywhere?” – Neil Gaiman

Star gazing, and
Neck kissing
Stormy nights, and
Wild mornings
You.
You were my sun
and star,
my road-side fun
and half-burnt cigars.
My warmth
that left me burnt
And my beautiful scars.
We were everything you,
and I weren’t.

How did the sun burn out?
How did we turn out
to be the fire
that would end us both?
Did it
end us both?
Or is it just me
with blistered skin
and feelings akin?
How did the stars fall down?

A lost love.
A bleeding scar.
A devastated me.
Gazing at the stars.


Instagram: myspirals
Previous post : Home.
Related post : Always?

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

The fallen star.

“Have you seen a fallen star anywhere?” – Neil Gaiman

Star gazing, and
Neck kissing
Stormy nights, and
Wild mornings
You.
You were my sun
and stars,
my road-side fun
and half-burnt cigars.
My warmth
that left me burnt
And my beautiful scars.
We were everything you,
and I weren’t.

How did the sun burn out?
How did the stars fall down?
How did we turn out
to be the fire
that would end us both?
Did it
end us both?
Or is it just me
with blistered skin
and feelings akin?

A lost love.
A bleeding scar.
A devastated me.
Gazing at the stars.


Previous post : Home.
Related post : Always?

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

A ghost with a beating heart

I’ve been asked
‘Are you okay?’
Way too many times.
And I’ve answered
Way too many times
‘I am fine.’
My voice has been firm
Quite unlike my smile
That trembles
For just a little while
But manages to lie.
I try.
There are no cuts
On my hand,
And no dust
On my shoulder.
It’s just
My damn eyes.
They cannot seem to lie.
I’ve been asked
Way too many times
I’m tired.
But I’ve answered
Every single time
‘I am fine.’


Previous post : The war has ended.
Related post : A necklace of hope.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞