Shine

Maybe they were better without my helping hand, Sucking on my feelings, I became a barren land, Maybe for them, I was never more than a friendship band.

~ark

Some scars needn't be visible, they ache in memory.

Guilt

The urge to remain where we are, not wanting to move, not wanting to change and then feeling guilty for not achieving, for not changing, for not beginning, for not ending, for not continuing.

Standing in front of the mirror yet avoiding it to not witness the failure achieved, to avoid the reflection of the coward who refused to give the best, who chose to ignore everything.

The guilt of not putting efforts and then reading the disappointed expressions hidden beneath the acts of consolation. To show that you worked when you never did and when they say, “At least you gave your best. That’s what matters” 

How do you break it to them? How do you present your cowardness, your lethargy, your unfaithfulness. And then, you opt for a path you never thought you would take. You become something with a void building within. All the emotions that were never expressed eventually stop hurting, they become a habit. The void gradually growing consumes all the emotions leaving a creature too selfish to even care. Showing acceptance for something you should’ve fought harder for but you leave it, you leave yourself where you were.

But in all of this, one thing remains,

The guilt of not feeling guilty. The constant war to define it, to categorise it as justification or an excuse. But these words seem inappropriate, what do you think would fit?

Cowardice, distracted, remiss or the inertia of not moving ahead from the information to know the difference to the wisdom of making one?

Either praise or curse,

I just wished for some words.

From your throat to my ears,

Something to know that you see my efforts.

The Ashes of Herself

The relics of her feelings, The ashes of her burnt soul, Were locked in an old chest, Buried deep in her heart enclosed. The burden of those burials gradually, Outweighed her. She wanted to get rid of it, As the weight had been consuming her.

That day, The chest opened itself, And dissolved the ashes in the rivers of tears, After years, she felt relieved and alive. She could finally breathe with a pleasant sigh.

There kept a pen on the table, Staring back at her. It was time to write her life again. The droplets of tears fell like rain, Wetting the paper on which, She had to sculpt her life ahead.

She instead wrote everything about her past self, Burnt it, and dissolved the ashes of herself, In a peaceful river. She then wrote again, Looking at herself in the unbreakable mirror, Unknown to what would happen ahead, But known to what would never happen again.

~ark

My Memories

I was patient, or so I thought. I counted every moment, To witness the thing, I yearned to see for long. But it came and ended so soon. Glimpses danced in my mind, While I waited for it once again. My tears that reflected the luminescence of my moon, Refused to fall, as the memories would drain too. The future became the past, My mind mourning at the memorials, Eyes blinded by hopes, Should I consider my comfort a curse or a boon?

~ark

My Happy Ending

I know very well, That the end is near. But still, I believe that it's not the end of the world. I just keep sitting, fearing it, thinking about it, But I don't know why, I don't act for change, I don't change for the same.

I know that if I try, I may make it. But the fear of what if, Makes me stationary. Even after its monumental importance for me, I don't act, I don't change.

They say, everything has a happy ending, But what if I don't want it to end? Because if it doesn't, I wouldn't have to act, I wouldn't have to change. It appears so easy being stationary.

But it's not the same, As for the poison of fear, Is consuming me gradually. And that ending is the only way, I could get rid of it.

I don't know if it'll be a happy ending or not, But it'll end for sure, Even if I don't wanna act, Even if I don't wanna change, I have to act, I have to change. For my happy ending.

~ark

Her Tree

The building lit by the sun’s glare, People walking through the aisles, I gazed through the window, Thoughts pouring in my mind. The sky embellished with clouds, Curtained the sun time by time. The glare slowly took over, They drifted further over miles. Seeking shelter from the truth’s glare, I hid under the tree of lies. Covered by the shade, I still scorched in my feelings inter wined.

And then, the tree fell and the glare too. I burned in the flames I ignited. I lay on my ashes, As I slowly trapped myself in the darkness of night. Returning from its exile, The sun emerged piercing my veins, I smiled as I watered a tree, The roots hidden in the soil of the avenges’ reign.

~ark

The Frame

In the frame, lies the memories, The memories of my life, Still unsure, whether the frame, Would be hidden in the dust of shame, Or decorated in the honor of the same. It would definitely remind me of my life, Left behind, the one that gave me a new life. Still unsure, whether the frame broken, Would be repaired or thrown, It'll remind me of their last words, Their nature or true colors shown, Their happiness or fake smiles, I'll remember the old days, While standing in the old aisles. I'll still long on the memories, The frame will behold. With my eyes through which tears, Of relief or regret would flow.

~ark

Her Life

Her laughter echoed the pain of her cries, The ice melted, she burned and tried. Happy face with empty eyes, Her smile depicted the pain confined. Her words reflected her past mistakes, She vowed to change her dying life. Bleeding by the cuts of their knife, She refused to be called futile. She decorated her old grave, With the ribbons of the broken ties. Rising from the ground once again, Her silence roared the goddess's might.

~ark