what a tiny flower worth?

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Alone stand the tiny flower,

while monsoon drops fall

butterflies and beauty fly by then

letting happiness to ferment

helplessly in the evening,

let alone darkness engulf the life.




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where I find in disguise and in nude

Where I am sagging skin in slouching thoughts,

And tender tickle in ecstasy

I am inched high in vicious intention,

And bowing eternal in gratitude,

I am blushing,

I am gazing,

Sometimes with lovers’ eye

Or many times a pity why,

Standing staring,

I try seeking the truth

of the figure in shape

But it just a silhouette,
I see,
that seems like

Someone I know,

Someone I used to know.



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I have become empty. I have been choking as if the world has drift away from me and doing fine, completely fine without me in it. I cry hard enough to wake up in puffy eyes, why?

Not to one reason or any, Its like emptiness, of lethargy.

I think tearing is the right word for this. Like I have come to this date pulling a same strength and now it is tearing like the old piece of cloth. It is weak and tender and tear in every pull, so more I need it, more it gets teared up.

And I mourn for it. For myself of how I have become, so unwilling to see whats ahead, not because I have become a depressive cynical Psyche but I have become unwilling mouth to feed in. I don’t want to feed in, even if it the vitamins and calories god is serving me, I DON’T WANT IT.

I am occupied, but what is this bone tiring job that I do and come home to lay hollow.

I feel it is like a musical chair, you are supposed to run and run and still find a chair, and still you run. I think I kept running and without  deciding on any chair and then I kept running because it is only thing I know and now I am tired and still the game is not over. No I am not mourning for any chair.


I do think both sides

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Does ever a lotus

mourn the

root it stands

or the filth

grace in gratify

for the transcendence





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I want to see

All that glee

So reflect me,

the best memories

of a becoming bee


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While your best days are blooming in ground,

Your family and friends in around

While the world is open for you

and a lover at side

In the journey of fairy land,

Who need, Who seek


A girl lost and found in consciousness

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I wanted that, it was mine. I wanted my share of happiness, may be my part that I only thought. I can sulk always thinking the events thinking the graph of growth that didn’t grew, but linger in the steady..and I can make face, with anger and pain inside. But where is solace?

May be in fulfillment.

I lost there in thinking of fulfilment, and over thinking in what could have been? But what becomes left if achieved, what will be the next thing? I ponder all this years of what and why. And I know it should not be answered, I am not ready for any answers. I lost there in expecting answers.

I lost there, in the shadow of my trouble ball that I weave in complexity of woes, my woes. Meaningless it may be but it matters, apparently a lot to me. I know, I am losing me in the woes that have become my reasons or part of being me. I am afraid if it has been about me all this time. If I am known for my woes , or is it that I have made myself portrayed that way then this is my biggest losing..

I have lost there, so ordinarily crying out for speckles of past, about people and places, about myself. I read somewhere me in past, today and future are three different people. What I was and what I have become, who will I be? Who I want to be for myself or for everyone that see me, I lost there not meeting expectation. But having to meet expectation, mine or theirs’, defeat me.

And living to live, just to age depress me, daunts me sometimes to find myself in same mirror with a bit of sagging face and bit of elongated yesterdays. But I also don’t have answer what to do if otherwise.

And writing always misleading cliché of rants like such lose me, that uncomprehends my readers to ask me “if you only have frustrated head?” I don’t have answer, may be may be it is about my frustrated head, but frustration don’t help me care to write. My frustrated head loathe the idea of summing of depression.  It is only the state of indifference where I find myself easy to express. I can look back that day a month ago when I was crying with a miserable heart, then a day of profound joy, then many days in between in mundane..I can look back to every room of nostalgia and feel every feeling fresh yet known. but I have come long way, a day is long way from yesterday, I have passed that, you have passed that. So there is no depression, and I disagree that expressing tragedy is about expressing frustration, if so life is frustration to be sum up in stories and memories. So I am just trying to express acceptance.

About losing, this year has shaken me with incidents and events that have made me lost patience so many time. I was angry I was hurt I was afraid and I was traumatized. I held grudge and slouched for same reasons, even the humility inside me has demanded to be rightful in being wrong. I have lost and came out ordinary from every test marks of time, feeling defeated yet with knowing that I am vulnerable to learn and fall. I am scared every time about what next, I have this urge of having to find anchorage and yet desire to flee in float. This ambiguity is how I am, how I have always been. And so I lost in seeking anchorage while fleeing. But, I rejoice it,  and I know this truth no matter how much I doubt in series of losing, I still rejoice the fleeing.

This bit of consciousness keep me leap up my faith about me. The consciousness say it is all right to lose control and slid sometimes. My consciousness where I have collected myself after every turmoil only lead to the respite of  indifference, in state where I gain my calmness knowing the storm around, knowing I can loss countless to be caught in consciousness and arrive here.


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