I want to say "Morning" to you every day,
When I wake up sweetly at first light,
To drink coffee with you under lilac
On the open terrace, laughing on sight.

I want to plunge into my thought darkness
And get only major of them therefrom.
They mantle my day, and it'll be cleaner.
And happiness will be my master for all.

I want to throw out all foul thoughts
About my fierce fortune in whole.
I want to revive, to cheer up, to uncover
And get off meek beggings forever at all.

I want to stop making the Deity from pain.
But I've got nothing work out at full.
And I continue to kowtow to my pain,
Begging for save as the latest fool.

I stand at the end, looking upon the new road ahead.
I step on to a new journey, with its map unread.
I am unaware of the destination; how do I advance?
"I am just a piece of paper here", said the map at a glance.
I carry along with me a treasure trove of experience and memories,
To which I still cling upon for an appease.
I find it tough to leave the treasure behind,
Together that I earned with my people in our grind.
I learn about the road on every turn as I proceed,
I reach the fork and validity of my decision makes me worried.
For the demand of each path, I pay a similar cost,
Not on the way, but in the pool of my thoughts, I am lost.

As humankind shivered
it cut down trees,
it overcame nature.

So we were sheltered

As humankind hungered
it hunted its prey,
it took control.

So we were fed

As humankind worried
it overcame nature.
it took control.

So we will with tyrants

Life is here,
Then it's not,
One small portion of time,
It's all we've got.
You find things you like,
People too,
I found you.
No second chances,
No time to make up lost dances,
Or even a simple second,
To appreciate what you have.
I blinked,
Then October turned to spring,
Easter flowers came just in time this year,
I can only give them 86 more chances,
To reappear.

I may be patient, but nothing close to love sick –
Mind my twisted thoughts, to the twist of my hand;
The handy character, still carrying their tender wrist –

My heart beats true, to the beat of being so tender –
But it’s so hard, learning to love those I long to hate,
And I always ask myself, “can I really do all of this”

Yet, I don’t expect the purest of love from a heart –
A wicked place; a hollow that can pompously say,
“I love you,” with deceitful lips.

Actions speak louder than words; as your actions
All carry their own intentions, that you choose not
To whisper them all – only the heart knows!

There no such thing,
As a bad poem –

It’s merely a spectrum
Of Preferences.

my thoughts are not the
manifestation of a
universe amen

The Mind Olympics – thoughts going round
and round my once-stable mental state –
Where I transitioned from a season of declaring,
“I can cope with anything,” to now saying,
"I need anything to help me cope."

I am like a pristine canvas, pure and white;
yet, the moment a single black spot appears,
the harmony is shattered.

As the vibrant colours in my eyes fade away,
I find myself painted with the stain of hollow
anguish – empty victories fill my grasp, yet they
only amplify the weight of my own suffering.

Mental health is no laughing matter;
yet, in a cruel twist of irony, I find myself chuckling
at the absurdity of believing I am the sole bearer
of such heavy thoughts. All I yearn for, is someone
to truly listen to the whispers of my heart.

Can we please talk?