Broken pieces

I fold within myself
Like a child within her mother
I bruise like a wrapped paper
But I iron myself again

Like an abandoned instrument, I lie in the corner
Waiting to be tuned
Waiting to be played
I forgot how I sounded
My melodies seem forgotten

My thoughts like my body lie naked
My soul lay bare
I walk in to the unknown
Into the abyss I fell

I masquerade in the day
It's the night that sees my face

The freak

My demons, they seem to be ruling me
But they know not who here's the freak
They ask me to speak
They urge me to critique
The voices are so loud that I hear them shriek

But I keep quiet
Even if there is no respite
I make no sound
I make no sound

They jumble me up
They make me doubt
My sanity
My firm ground

But I keep quiet
Even if there is no respite
I make no sound
I make no sound

Just like old times

She came back to where she once lived
To relive the stories, to grieve
She visits the old garden, home to the red roses
And sit in silence as if to not disturb their conversational doses

Suddenly there appears a man
To disturb this silence with a cigar in his hand
She wonders if he remembers her
The hand that once soothingly touched his face
The face that got her heart beating in the first place

He talks about random nothings and appears to leave
Suddenly she stands up and asks him
'Do you know me'
The man says : Yes, I do and starts to walk
She sits there for a while wondering if she should talk

She returns to her house
Remembering in vain
The man she loved and assumed dead looked insane

Wounded

Unable to move, am trapped in myself
my soul's torn apart, my wounds lay open bare

I pretend like you don't exist
You pretend to be unaware
We change priorities
It's like a game of truth and dare

It wasn't anger
It was sadness
You understand me not
You don't even try to
You just sit there
Staring at the horizon
While I sit here
Staring at you

Memories

Visiting the same place
Where once memories were made
Although now times have changed
The memory still remains

Where I once felt love
Only angst resides
How I wish I were indifferent
To all the feelings that I felt

Lying in the car, we held hands
Now I lie in my bed, thinking of those rants

Soon the memories will fade
Soon it will be a new day

Eulogy of a sandwich

I am finding it extremely hard to express my feelings for you, my sandwich.

I made you with so much love only so that you will - sometime during the day - satisfy my hunger.

I am proud to say that you have been the one.

Your mix of bread, potatoes, cucumbers and tomatoes along with a few spices have given me pleasure that no other food could have given me at this moment.

You have taken care of me when no one else could.

You have been my partner today and I thank you for having been a part of my diet and my life, even if it was only for an evening.

Everything comes to an end. I am glad we had a happy ending.

Burrp!

The sandwich

For the world you were simply a sandwich,

Two pieces of breads with veg or meat in between,
But I saw in you what the world hasn't see. 
The world told your bread was so unattractive and a bore.
I say, the bread lived for a purpose, to hold the juice fresh core. 
The world said your core was not that great,
I say, I know you better, you were au fait,
The world said you were just a meal,
I say you were a package of many unique things, which's a big deal.
You were not an accident or someone's mistake,
You were made by a creator, you were a choice, a specific design, a specific taste.
Handpicked was every part, and with much love assembled like art,
Wrapped with much much care in a foil so that you were warm, unharmed and unspoiled. Your journey began in my kitchens womb, 
And you travelled a whole 12 kms in my vroom
And finally you landed on my plate. 
And I ate you without delay or late
You died without resisting so that I could live,
And for you to my God thanks I give.

By the one who killed it
Written by a friend

The traveller

Having travelled across several miles
What is it that I am trying to find?

Is it passion within myself
Or a passionate affair with the world
Is it searching for the self within
Or losing the self in the crowd

Away from home, escaping forever
I find comfort among strangers
A new day, a new act
The same old me is wearing a different hat

I return with a new story, newer memories
Another place struck off from my list
But what of the search, what did I find?
Having travelled across several miles
I question myself one more time

News

What if there are no blasts
what if there are no fights
what if there are no murders
what would be your news in the day

What if the only news
are natural disasters
and theater and art
would people still read the papers
if there is nothing bad
by people, by race, by cultures?

It is a sadistic industry
getting happiness out of other people's misery
why can't there be good beside the bad
Does everyone only empathise, when the rantings are sad?