Friday, August 24, 2007

Fickle Brain

Sitting alone here in this room
thinking what is wrong with me
When everyone is enjoying the bloom
I am longing to be free

The shackles that hold me here
those shackles are self made
I've chained my mind, my heart
Soul lying on the edge of blade

My existance no longer exists
I'm a living dead piece of meat
I sense no chill in the wind
My body can't feel the heat

I try so hard to hide it
is that what makes it show
They get to meet a happy me
My heart pumps pain with blood flow

But why this self imposed exile
Why when I don't want it
Why this tormenting of myself
This question is endless pit

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Present Lost

Have tried something new this time. Though the topic remains same, as always, have changed structuring a bit, see if you can make out.

This heartache this pain
This pain is insane
Insane are all thoughts
Thoughts thought in vain

It ain't easy being lonely
Lonely in the crowd
Crowded with chocking feelings
Feelings once made you proud

The emotions are imprudent
Imprudent to the core
Core of this all is look
The look that you wore

Life is made of bondings
These bondings are sore
Sore is the meaning of life
This life is a whore