Image

It’s Not You

Didn’t mean to hurt your feeling,

Wouldn’t even dream to see you cry;

How horrible to see you hurting,

I desperately want to die.

Everything became so twisted,

Nothing could be undone;

Some might say it was fated,

But I wished that I could run.

When your eyes were glazed and wet,

My heart was smashed to million pieces;

Yours was equally broken too, I bet,

Would it be enough with sorry and kisses?

I wanted to embrace you badly,

But my arms were frozen like ice;

You stared ahead blankly,

I didn’t even know how to apologise.

The silence was deadly deafening ,

And emotions were in chaos;

Your cold eyes remained unblinking,

The air filled with utmost loss.

Should I begin with sorry?

Would that take the sting away?

Would you believe such sob story,

When there’s nothing else to say?

Liberty

Liberty. Literally it means to be free doing what you want without being imposed to follow a certain way. But we are bound by duties…restricted by the system in the society. The norms and expectations that probably came from centuries old civilizations. Strangely, the only place for this freedom is within yourself. In your head. In your mind.

A room of my own

Anyone with children can relate to this predicament. You can have so many rooms at home and yet you don’t even own one. I tried many times to create my little haven, a tiny hideout for a wee bit of respite, but not for long. That space would be soon invaded by my little army. None of them have any sense of privacy (unless it’s about them) when it comes to getting this old soul to listen/make/do whatever it is that crops up at that particular moment. There was a time when I pretended to sleep thinking they’d be sorry looking at my tired body slumped on the sofa with a mountain of unfolded laundry. No. That didn’t work either. I’m still working on it…

 

Hiding under the table! Why haven’t I thought of it???