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Before the world told me who to be

I was someone else before the world told me who to be—
Someone innocent, happy, and wild-heartedly free.
We all begin life as a blank, open page,
Full of wonder and hope, not yet shaped by the cage.

But over the years, that spark starts to fade,
Like a dog lying quiet after hours in a cage.
We learn the world’s truths and swallow its lies,
Feel the weight of its sorrow and long, sleepless nights.

It’s not just our demons—we carry society’s too,
Watching our every step, judging all that we do.
It tells us what’s right, what’s wrong, what to say,

Love like this

You never promised heaven, But you built it in your silence. Not with grand gestures— but in the way you remembered my favorite color and made me forget the hidden pains. You didn’t shout your love, you whispered it in the stillness between my storms— in the way your presence said, “I see you,” before I ever spoke, the way it shows the way before I get lost. There was no music, no noise, no instruments, no sound— but somehow your laugh became the song I prayed not to forget, the song I wished to place on a loop. You taught me that pure love isn’t loud— it’s constant. It waits at the door wi

Founder Or Slip (Rhyme Form)

It’s a truly fine  bright day
as the sunshine might say
the world’s a glorious sound
of joyful urban life found
smells of zest coffee bean
sets alight sets the scene
noisy footsteps and smiles
has them laughing in isles
but each city is this hub
one can never lightly snub
fountains on streets show
pathways to a vivid glow
lively street scene bustle
hear falling leafs rustle
food stands taunt the nose
as the yearning  now flows
hue’d canvas has proud grip
may it never founder or slip
I detect some lucky breaks

Holy yet furious pen

1.
Let me spit in your face for lacking conscience and grace,
Says the holy yet furious pen.
2.
You weave words for big shots for they throw butter and breads.
Like men in black coat you fight, eager to prove yourself right.
Let me spit for you fight.
3.
Let me spit, for your pendulous moves: Left and Right.
As you write for the Right, As you write for the Left, As you write for both.
Yet unaware who is right.
Let me spit for you write.
4.

Longing for death

I don't want to die. I just don't want to live. My sins are heavier Than childhood tricks. Is life's light worth The inner darkness, Or is it worthless to try? I don't want to die. The sun is still bright in the sky. It's slowly destroyed By a person's crime. I forgave him, But it's too late to cry. I don't want to live. Life's cruel clasps. If death's gift Is an angel's hug, My soul could fly From my demon's drugs. I don't want to die. I just don't want to live. Was I chosen To bear this misery? Am I enough, Or will it finish my history?

I will be with you My friend

I will be with you
My friend
Every single day
Supporting you daily
That is not a lie
We are both good friends
And we have
The same believes
I can't hardly believe that
Also we treat each other with respect
We never once mistreat each other
Because that would be the wrong thing to do
And we don't deserve that
We need to work on our friendship
Because I want it to last a long time
We would be lost in the world
If we didn't had each other

A Lighthouse through film

Swimming in darkness Comforted by demons Drowning in darkness Tormented by demons Then that light beckoned— Through the darkness like a lighthouse, Shining on me—drowning and tormented—like a mirror, Becoming a lifeline. In the night, a calling from Him— A calling to His form of commitment, A calling through a film, A calling to His love. Taking darkness from my heart, Allowing me to keep a part of it— A test to see when I’d fully surrender To His will over mine.

Snipping and Speaking

My entry effaces the barber’s snooze. Ineffable delight radiates from his mind. He wraps my neck and shoulders with a violet silk shawl. Tethering my thoughts, I listen. “Your scalp is parched in the heat of thought. Beware of baldness.” His scissors reap fast. I want trimming, not cropping. But I am muted by the incessant flow of his words. “Men are unnatural in the natural world.” His tongue moves like a train. Each topic disappears swiftly. “People walk back. Fanatics prance. Who can teach them human values?” Snip, snip, snip… He doesn’t cut my hair the way I wish.
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