Me

When i was three
They would ask me
What i wanted to be
“Bunny!” would always be
The answer that’d get me
The most kisses and sweets

When I turned ten
They asked me again
But this time
I realized
Bunny would not suffice
Instead a couple lies
Would be enough
To get a few pats
And glances of relief
Wasn’t long until I learned
“Doctor” is what earned
The most nods in return

Then I turned twenty
And I waited patiently
For them to ask again
What I want to be
Now the choice was easy
And I had my answer ready
I knew me better
Than at ten or three
But nobody asked
And i waited and waited
Brain itching to scream
The words that gleamed
In neon lights
At the back of my eyes
Everytime I went to sleep

Heart thumping in my chest
Whispering to me
To say what burns
So passionately
The words all ready
To burst out and leave
This prison of the tongue
Alas!
Thoughts left unsung
And silently
They handed me
A college degree
A doctor is what you’ll be!
Just like you said
So live yor dream!
Congratulations! They said
Repeatedly

And nobody asked
If I wanted this mask
That portrayed a successful me
And all the while
The voice inside
Slowly muffled, then died
The heart and brain
No longer bothered
And the face accepted the mask
As the me I wanted to always be
At the expense of a dream
As silently bloomed a casualty
One this doctor could never treat

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Beauty

It’s strange how we find beauty in destructivity. The night sky intrigues us. Trillions of magnanimous balls of burning gas capable of frying anything even a few million meters from them intrigue us. Sun sets make us feel at peace. A ball of fire large enough to fit a million earths, close enough to be witnessed from our tiny planet, inching further closer every passing decade, capable of boiling all land, makes us feel at peace. The moon, the beautiful, cold, lifeless, lightless, barren moon overwhelms us with emotion on a lonely night. The vast, never-ending, land-engulfing, moody sea brings us serenity. The beautiful sea that deceives you with the many colours it wears as times of the day change, should you discover what it truly looks like. The same sea with the potential of dragging you into a wet, painless embrace of sweet sweet freedom. Yet we lay in the sand and let our feet touch the shore and pick shells from its floor. We watch the sun set into it and we watch as it bleeds into the sky and we watch it bleed into the waters, adding another colour to the palette of nature. We watch the night sky imprinted onto its surface, distorted by the ripples created by waves that can engulf an entire city from the slightest nudge of a plate.

We find beauty in all of this. We find ways of incorporating it into poetry and art that we create. We define it in ways that best suit our interests. We calculate and measure it using systems that we pride in creating from raw thought.

Because accepting the meaninglessness of our existence in a gloriously self-expanding and self-sufficient universe prickles at our prides as flawed human beings.

Because for once we want to feel like we have control, like a child sitting amidst skilled architects showing off the fortress he made from building blocks. Or a drug addict thinking he controls what he feels, all the while rotting inside, enslaved to the withdrawal symptoms of what he calls “control”.

We think we are entitled to celebrate what we believe to be rightfully ours, drunk on delusions of being the sole heirs to an entire universe. Giving in to self-imposed falsely created megalomania.

We find beauty in destructivity because arrogance blinds man worse than ignorance.

Diversion

How do they describe
This strange emotion
I think they call it joy
Happiness or maybe satisfaction
The feelings that arise
By seeing fireflies in motion
The aftermath of a life
Spent caged in a prison
Liberation
Or the overwhelming sight
Of a star-lit sky
And Autumn leaves in piles
How do they describe
This feeling that lies
Deep inside
The crevices of your life
Escaping at times
When you decide
To finally ignite
The long dead soul
You keep burried inside
Your hardened heart
Cold, now alive
With this strange emotion.
Such a pleasant diversion