You could never feel my story.
Every word written in between the lines.
Scrawled in the deepest shades of my morality.

I'll hand you a box, full of my darkness.

It'll be years before you realize, this was a gift, to understand my story.

This is a poem about nothing
which is impossible since Nothing is actually Something
An indefinite pronoun.

Now, I'm discussing nothing
a concept that makes 'nothing' a thing
Confused? I am.

My mind is buzzing with the thought of nothing!
So is my mind empty or not?!
Discussing nothing is leaving me blushing!

Now existentialists,
Sartre was influenced by Heidegger
Heidegger says he was misunderstood

In the effort to bring about a poem about nothing,
I've created something, so this poem is now about Something'
what, I know not.

I am the disappeared
my name spoken no more
by the tongues of zealous lovers.
I will not weep as my eyes look upon my banished heart
nor will I revel in it's decay
I will only mourn that time in it's passing is not as brief as your passion for my smile.

Words.
Those tiny individual letters formed into expression.
Feelings, emotions, reality and fiction.
All bound into words.

Midnight came, calling my name
Striking the hour with torment
Playing a strange and hidden game
Of a living heart, sadly spent

Coming likely vampire this night
Draining me of my energy
Escaping like a bat, taking flight
Cursing me as an enemy

But she is here, protecting me
A love shining brighter, a star
Taking my soul, setting it free
Healing this body, no more scars

So Midnight will go, pass on by
Because she holds this broken man
Like an Angel, above the sky
She knows love, as sweet emotion can

My muscles ache from the emotional burdens you constantly place on my shoulders.

My bones creak from the additional weight, I'm barley able to carry.

I drag my feet along in the dirt.
My knees, weak and trembling from the great effort of not falling face-first to the ground.  

Instead, I carry on.
Walking with my head held high.
Far from the murky dirt, below my feet.

I may ache and creak from the strain.
But I'll be ****** if I'll crumble under your backward ideology.

Living in a different era would be marvelous.  
But get this,
They had the same problems that we are all facing today.
Problems that baffle your mind.
"Why on earth are they still debating over it?"

Living in a different era would be fabulous, wouldn't it?
But would you still have the same privileges accessed today?
Maybe some of you but not all.

Living in a differnt era......
if it were possible, would you go back?
Back to the days were life was as simple as black and white.

Pour out the tears
From battered eyes
Into a rusted tin cup
Then forget about me
Because love betrayed
As it always seems to do
Leaving a grieving heart
In mourning, silently beating

~~~
When the wooden door leads a little,
To a force is put
In the erst of the body fleece wells,  
Sweet sweating as the dew is deposited

The clamor of the known birds,
Uttering,
Be filled,
North wind changes direction,
Comes through my southern window

When harmonic air,
Passed over the yellow paddy fields,
Farmers perches hope's aroma
Into the hearts  

At the mid of the noon,
Cowboys keep exhaustion on flute
Swelling of the new message,
Leaves
Flowers
Fruits

After a Long waiting,
Pied crested Cuckoo singing
Mating songs
The peacock repeatedly whispering peahen

My beloved,
Your one "April" desires
bought us,
Cuddly child as the light purple rose

And they say you
Sing your song of arrival
O' April O' come!
Once Again!

Show Your Cyclone form
Engross your soul
Bring the rain,
Chill the Nature
Add to birth New Child for the unscathed time
~~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen