I Will Die Happy

The Pot's Everything

The seed sown in a pot, Nourished with its care in ways untaught. The pot's everything was the plant. The reason for its existence was the plant. One day, The plant outgrew the pot. And was now held by the other. The pot, abandoned because of its care, Swore to never love anything in its life, Due to the hidden fear. But the other seed sowed in its heart, Germinated and opened it once again, Knowing, that it wouldn't sustain. But still grew just to keep the pot's soul alive, To keep it filled with warmth, For bringing the another to life.

~ark

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?

Moving On

Reality sunk in, Imaginations came to an end. The chromatic life was now buried, The reign of truth finally flourished. The string of relations broken, Slowly strangled me to death. I said, I had already moved on, While I visited a new place wearing my old uniform. Bitterness is better than sweetness, they said, But I still wanted to read the chapters already read.

AND..

As I peeked through the closed doors, Confused between the two boats, I begged to find the pages I wrote, While I burned the ones they tore.

I Must Be

I have to be relatable to be seen,

I must feel the same to be heard.

I have to be patient and listen to their empty words,

I must be caring to make them feel like home.

I must remain unknown to make them known.

I have to make them feel happy,

I must compliment their flaws.

Standing in the courtroom,

I must face a trial for breaking the laws.

I should have a bad memory,

Forgetting everything

And move on,

I must apologise for not becoming their lifeless doll.

~ark

They'll Too

The situation I had been in, Was the situation they were in. I wanted to warn them, As I already knew the end, But I decided against it. As I was the one who ignored the warnings too, And I knew they'll too. Thinking, The way I realised, They'll realise too. The way I learned, They'll learn too.

~ark

December 2024?

Wasn't it 2019 yesterday?

Falling

I was falling, Deep into the air. It felt like I was flying, Descending in the layers. The ground would catch me, Why would I fear? Numerous hands tried to save me, I was just flying, why do they care? My excuses came to an end, I wish I would've dared. But, even if I held someone's hand, How do I assure myself, That those hands won't leave me, In the middle of somewhere.

~ark

When I hope, I drown

~ark

I predicted the end, Merely after one chapter, half written. The rest of the story waited patiently, I too waited for it to begin.

~ark

Blinded Eyes

I trusted my eyes blindly,

I guess that's what humans do.

But my illusion shattered,

As the pigments of lies,

Reflected the fictitious truth.

The light was biased, I believed,

But its innocence was trapped in an endless loop.

Refusing to bow before the unproven facts,

I decided to perceive it with a different view.

I tried to become a pigment myself,

Reflecting my sins into actions my apathy sew.

But the law of the cosmos remained constant,

I surrendered, confessing to my vengeance's coup.

~ark