If my eyes are the window to my soul,
  What do you see?
Do you see the the pain
  And the fears?
Do you see the scars,
  And the tears?
Unshed, holding back everything.
If my eyes are the window to my soul,
Do you see the demons
  Behind my walls?
Do you see my shields
  Ready to burst, to fall?
Down, waiting for a push, a shove.
If the eyes are the window to my soul,
  Then no one is looking.
They don't see anything,
  How hard I try.
They don't see anything, 
  Leaving my soul to die.
Behind the window, behind my eyes.

I'm trying to escape this body but I'm trapped
I'm hammering my fists against the walls of my veins
but there's no way out and no way in
I'm left alone in this dark space that used to be my mind
there's nothing left here besides my slowly deteriorating corpse
I'm sorry

[for Pradip]

Poet, you wish for a sunshine poem...
Rainbows, you know, are the ones you bring.
All hearted, in loneliness, you walk your path
Disclosing unexpected beauty, words painting
Infinite music in aquarelle lights,
Picturing, for us, love for worldly mankind.

Consider, thus, Poet, that your
Humming song, of sweet tones,
Across the skies draws the
Tangible alliance of
Tolerance
Oh, and understanding,
Poet!
Awaken in our hearts,
Driven by good will,
Hence on empathy,
Yauld is our looking
Ahead and around, with
You.

this is a rant
on who the painter is who paints a white canvas.
who makes it blank, all the same?
Who paints with one color, the confused?
My painter, the one who created this canvas
this universe this creation
paints with many shades of
variance. He paints not
one nation, not one race, not one star, not one season,
he paints
many faces,
many days all different
many nights some dark
some radiant.
He painted  us the colors
of all of heaven. Gave us the many shades of gray.
He painted a sunrise yellow of goldest glow,
a night to see the day with a new perspective.
He painted choices right
and painted us the freedom to choose.
Trees of many green with barks light and dark
some are white. All are right.
Remember who painted this.
He painted a sky
not always blue.

Will I wake up and live
the dream I am dreaming
OR
Will I fall asleep and dream
the dream I am living...

I knocked at the lonely book
To open the doors to an adventure
Between the labyrinth of words
Taking me towards the untold story
Unraveling the surprises, slowly
Every turn I take brings me to a crossroad
Words pulling me to different directions
Engaging my mind in wordplay
And I start interacting with the protagonists
Delving deep into their minds
To gauge the thoughts of the author
Trying to bridge the gap between our thoughts
Only to face a barrage of hypothesis
Until I find myself at the exit of the maze
The lonely book has managed to hold my attention
Another journey waits till I decipher every word

Someone please save me because I am drowning.

And the most important thing is:

I don't know how to swim.