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Would you stop for a minute
and lie down by my side,
look up at the stars with me
beneath this blue night sky?

Would you tell me your story
your secrets and your fears
and trust me to keep them safely
as we peel away the layers?

Would you take me as I am
hurts and tears and all?
and seal each scar with a kiss
help me stand up when I fall?

Hold my hand and walk with me
I’ll stay forever by your side
hold you when you stumble
lean on you when I’m tired.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   13.12.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Not entirely happy with this one..been working on it since yesterday afternoon. Suggestions for improvement are most welcome! :)
 Dec 2012 Nick
Lucky Queue
gifted
 Dec 2012 Nick
Lucky Queue
Gifted
Gifted means nothing to people who do not know
I don’t even know the proper definition
Strange that I do not know a part of myself?
I think not.
C’est la vie – such is life
But why must only a few be burdened with this white elephant?
Yes, a white elephant
For although termed a gift, it comes with its own price
On my school’s website, on the gifted page, there is a file
This file, entitled, giftedness; a different kind of normal
Aptly named I think
The upsides? Exactly me.
The downsides? All perfectly describe me as well
My ‘gifted’ friends are just the same
Why is this a gift if it sets us back in our standardized culture?
Sure, I ace the tests, but I can’t start projects until last minute
All because of my perfectionist side
I am a ‘deep thinker’
But I hate deadlines because they limit the
Time I spend on a good, fascinating subject
I’m considered to have the ability to motivate people
But it always comes out bossy
I'm supposed to have high standards and expectations(which I do)
But these fail me when I cannot reach them myself
Causing insecurity
These traits and numerous others all belong to my kind, the 'gifted' kids
I've noticed we're all socially inept, awkward, clumsy
To some degree or another
And I suppose this analytically mindedness comes along with my plethora of troubles
I'm supposed to have many interests, and this is true
But it also prevents me from knowing exactly what I want
I'm supposed to be very focused, detail oriented
But I cannot stand the slightest disturbance
These gifts are deemed part of the 'gifted' personality
Why can't I be normal for a change?
Being gifted really singles you out
Such a small group of us in my school
Almost all are best friends
As no one can understand us better than others just like ourselves
But why can't everyone be gifted?
I don't like this much but I need to get it out of my system; it's imperfect but aren't we all?
 Dec 2012 Nick
Brynn
Soft
 Dec 2012 Nick
Brynn
People say I have soft hands.
Smooth to the touch.
Soft and sweet.

But I dont like when they say that.
"Wow, your hands are so soft"
I can't help but take some kind of offence.

The soft hands that haven't done much,
Young and pure.
Unknowning and innocent.

They haven't done anything yet in theses short years.
Assisting but never actually doing.
Careful and timid.

Never have they been worn down from work.
Or raw from the hardships of the day.
Never bleeding,scratched or hurt.

Nor have they felt the hand of another's.
To hold in a tight gasp.
Not loved and caressed.

They want to be numb with pain, and love.
Worked until they can no longer live.
Leave life not as they entered,
Leave with a hardened pride, strength and work.
Off the beaten track
along that deep unknown path
i found your music
which flows free within me now
and as we dance together
the night grows longer

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
"She dwelt among the untrodden ways
            Beside the springs of Dove,"
- William Wordsworth
 Dec 2012 Nick
Sydney Victoria
The Song Of Loneliness Whistles In The Breeze,
Soft And Gentle, Make It End Please,
The Broken Recored Of Misery Repeats Your Name,
Sadly This Record Is Stuck On The Needle,
A High Status Of Fame,
My DNA Entwined With That Of The Divine,
Yet I Am Cold And Alone,
Haunted By Ruthless Demons Nipping At My Nape,
I Sit By A Frigid Glassed Window,
Paned By My Tears Of Pain,
I'm Sick Of Awkward Conversation,
And Honestly I'm Terrified,
Because The Sound Of Your Rhythmic Breathing,
Becoming Closer,
Is Chilling To The Bone,
And I Can Already See Your Face In The Stands,
Because I'm So Broken,
And I Am Distraught,
Because I Can Already Hear The Sound Of,
The Music Of Misery
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