Look in the mirror—what do you see?
Success?
Failure?

I see a dead man’s corpse,
reanimating himself in an infinite cycle.

All for what?
Just to live another day
in this horrid world,
polarised in black.

We’re programmed
to wear a perfect smile
while our guts churn blood—

a perfect drama
for the herd of eyes
in front.

You pass by—
never seeing how my world holds its breath for you.

I know your laughter,
the flick of hair behind your ear—
small moments you forget,
but I remember.

I stay silent,
a nameless shadow
in the background of your story.

A pitch-black void—my current home.
Nerves tighten as I await the challenges ahead,
For the path I’ve chosen may lead to nothing,
A fruitless end, a whisper lost in time.

Yet, one thing remains unshaken—
The memories I’ve built,
And the ones still awaiting to be made.

The unsettling nature of its presence, disturbs the audience.
Rage, passion, guilt
hide behind its graceful beauty.
Mix evil into it—
it’ll bleed hues.
Mix good into it—
it’ll blossom its roses.
Mix both—
Meaningless balance is what you’re left with.

The rain veils the canvas,
blurs the view for the yearning audience to look beyond.
Rain can be gentle and ruthless.
From afar the water drips soft,
pleasing to the eye, it allures with its shimer.
Step in closer—
And it strikes you like bullets fired in the battlefield,
the recoils splash your inward eye.
A quiet, yet disturbing force to be reckoned with—

The trees show the path ahead,
a dull green blur on both sides.
The road’s a soft grey,
easy on the eyes, Alluring.

Background painted with pitch-black.
Silence is loud.
Leaving me alone with the base note of my heart, enough to keep me tinged.
The leaves whisper,
I’ve gone numb.

I wonder—
is this road the right one?
Or will it disappear like the others?

And even if it does,
does it matter?—
Don’t they all end in the same hole?

Life’s like a cigarette—
If you never take the risk, you’ll never be lit,
But light up too fast, and you’ll burn out quick,
Leaving nothing but smoke and regret.

Life’s like a cigarette—
Tempting, reckless, a slow inhale,
But every drag steals another breath,
And no one beats the final exhale.

Life’s like a cigarette—
You think you’re in control, till the ember fades,
Every choice a spark, every habit a flame,
And some fires you can’t unmake.

Life’s like a cigarette—
You can savor it slow or waste it fast,
But remember—when the last puff’s gone,
All that’s left is the ash of your past.

Not today.

Cracks on my head
have appeared boldly—
scorching heat,
the culprit, smiles.

Wounds fester
and age with time.

Taunting sleep haunts along,
derailing any grip on reality.

Hopeless I am,
breathless and fallen.