What's a war going to kill 

In this dead heart of mine

My breathes are for the namesake 

Only mocking this time 

Little is left to break and shatter 

All that's left of me Is hurt and anger 

Kill me, cut me open 

There'd be no blood to spatter 

What's a bullet going to do 

They've pierced my skin 

Through and through

What's a war going to kill

They say they take away everything you built 

But what's a bullet going to do 

When you're lifeless, every single part of you 

When you're already so dead 

Just so through and through 

Tell me, What's a War going to do 

 

ACID.

It rained yesterday and it was a different kind of rain. There was no cold and no warmth to it. The rain was just rain, only water flowing down and as it trickled down my window I thought about how beautiful the rain was to me, how much I loved the rainy season, how much I adored the weather and I thought about how the rain was beautiful to me whether I saw it make pathways down my window, silently from inside or whether I was outside splashing the water away noisily. And it made me want to be the rain. I wanted to be the same inside and outside. I wanted to be the same to your eyes whether you looked at me at 5 am or  7pm. I didn't want to be beautiful, but I wanted to be me, through and through. The rain leaves a certain kind of smell and taste in your mouth even after the downpour stops and I wanted to leave that taste in your mouth, I wanted to leave that sight in your eyes. 

It rained the entire night and in the fresh dewy after morning of the rains, I went out to get the newspaper and the headline read "Acid rains flood the city, do not leave....." And what it said after that I do not remember, because I kept the newspaper down and realised that maybe I was meant to be rain, only the acidic kind, the one that was deceptive, the one that looked like every other rain but one that was true to itself only when you felt it with your heart. The one that was the same to your eyes, but the one that burnt your skin. The one that left a taste in your mouth, but a bitter acidic taste nonetheless. 

Yes, I was meant to be rain indeed, only the acidic kind. 

Myself.

I am chaotic. Sad. Alone. Depressed. Maybe even a lunatic. 

I'm alone in a crowd. I'm at peace only with my demons. I am everything you'd not imagine me to be. 

As I said, I'm sad. But what I'm not is a sad story. 

I'm not a sad story. 

I'm not an example of a life not well lived. I'm not an example of a person not well loved. 

I'm all things negative yet I'm not negativity itself. I'm the ray of hope I need. 

I am my own sunshine and my own rain. 

My demons are just that - MY OWN. I'm not afraid of others. 

My fights are not with people but with myself. 

My competition is me. My bar is set to defeat the "me" of the past and to become better than the "me" of the future.

I may be alone but I am not lonely. I have my family, friends and myself. And that is all I need in this world. The identity of the being within me. The being that I am. 

All that I need is the clarity of my likes, dislikes, aims and ambitions. 

All I need is 

Myself. 

Little by Little.

And maybe little by little 

During the times that I loved you 

I lost parts of me 

Little by little 

You brushed off yourself, your habits, your smile, your personality, on me

And little by little 

What I lost wasn't my heart 

It was me. Completely merged with you

And little by little you went so far away 

Dying a new death everyday 

And now that you're gone completely 

It doesn't pain so much 

Because all those parts of you that live in me 

They remind me of how amazing you were 

That you were beautiful 

And maybe by the beauty of you

I might find beauty In myself 

Little by little 

Learning.

I love learning. Learning new things. New experiences. And I think no school can teach me what the various people I've met have taught me. 

I love meeting new people. It's the best experience. It has in many ways shaped who I am. I chose. I chose from people, mostly from their behaviours what I liked and disliked and made them my own. 

School told me to be kind. 

But what I felt, what I experienced when someone was mean to me. That was what taught me to be kind. 

People around you will teach you more than anything else can. 

It's the experience you have with people that moulds you. Was a person good to you when you were broken ? Did it feel like god sent that person? Did it feel great? Do you want to be that person? 

I've only learnt from people and experiences. I notice only people and observe only behaviours. People are diverse. Behaviours are too. But in the end it's only as simple as this - 

"Are you a good person? Or are you not?" 

I ask myself this question often. I haven't done anything yet that can give me an answer. I hope someday though, some one will smile at me, and say thank you, and that day I might have achieved something in this little life. 

The Northern Lights.

These lines are blurred 

These people hurt 

Life gave them pain

Hurt regret and sorrow- only these remain 

They flew off to another sky 

Wanted to explore a new them

They went off to the northern lights 

Slowly each saw what they'd never imagined

Little fractions of light melting their hearts away with each fragment 

They sat there in awe of what was happening 

Colours were dancing up in gods canvas

Greens blues and purples they saw every now and then

Falling from above - the most beautiful curtain 

And as every second made their heart beat faster 

It slowly made their scars lighter 

By the time the northern lights disappeared, 

So had their scars, traumas, their fears 

Sitting anew, they were pure beings 

Made of stardust and beautiful things 

They had been purified by the above skies 

Blessed by the beauty of the northern lights. 

Imperfection is not an excuse.

"Yes I make mistakes. Yes, I go wrong, make wrong choices. But don't judge me, I'm only human."

Today, you'll find tumblr filled with quotes of this sentimental value and although they are not entirely crap, I don't agree with them. 

 I understand the fact that we are flawed, imperfect, and that we make mistakes unintentional or otherwise, but I think today we take this for granted. 

So what if you're flawed? Imperfect? It does not for a second give you the right to hurt another ones feelings, to walk right over someone else's sentiments and say, "oops, sorry, my mistake, but don't judge me, I'm only human."

I like to look at people as a collection of their imperfections, and not of their perfections. All our imperfections, all our flaws, and all the mistakes we make because of them, they don't make us who we are. It's how we choose to make up for them, to not let our 'flaws' hurt someone else. How we choose to become better people, better humans, everyday of our lives. Striving towards a better, less flawed, less 'imperfect' us. That is what makes us who we are. 

Our thought process shouldn't be, "okay I'm flawed, deal with it." It should be more of a "okay, I'm flawed, I accept it, and I'm going to do every little thing I can to become a better, more wholesome human being."

              Flawed are you and me 

              To cover up our mistakes 

              This line we too often use,

              But baby, imperfection is 

              Not an excuse                 

So I guess what I want to say is that to err is to human, but to work towards greatness, of any kind, whether by doing great work for others, whether by planting a tree, or by simply smiling at a stranger, that is the greatest of human potentials. 

We grew up too fast.

We grew up too fast. 

It's sad you don't think? 

Life's changed too fast and too often. 

 

We knew things we shouldn't have known. 

Saw things we shouldn't have seen. 

Felt things we shouldn't have felt.

Let tears flow when they shouldn't have.

Let our hearts be broken when they shouldn't have. 

Let our minds explode over thoughts that shouldn't have been thoughts in our minds at all. 

We let our situations make us go crazy when they shouldn't have. 

We let ourselves be conquered by materialism when we shouldn't have. 

When the breathe of fresh air was right there we breathe in the smoke. 

When life was giving us sunshine we hid. 

When rain stopped by we fled.

The age when life was only supposed to be a four letter we searched for meaning and made life complicated when we shouldn't have. 

We grew up too fast. 

When we shouldn't have.

Life and the little things in between.

I grew up having a lot of issues in life. But you can't just say "I'm not going to live this life" or "I'm giving up." The moment you give up, you meet your end. 

For me the worst thing in life wasn't failure, the worst thing was not trying. Yes, you're not going to succeed always. Yes, you're going to get hurt, but that's part of life you know. Life isn't all great if you keep wining all the time. 

  Life is great because of the little things. Life, is this epic journey, where you meet people, you get hurt, you're loved, you also hurt others, knowing or unknowingly and most importantly, you keep moving. 

Yes there is a lot of pain in change, in changing, in moving, in constantly searching for that spark that keeps you alive. 

  But nothing is more painful than just staying where you are. Just still, with nowhere to go and no place to come from. To only exist, to do nothing but waste oxygen. 

To realise no dream, to appreciate no being, to not be awed by the beauty of this world. 

Yes I could've done that and let my issues eat me up, but there was this one time when I walked outside, breathe in that fresh, crisp air and looked at the stars shine, so bright yet so dull. So full of light and yet not as bright as the sun. So many things all at the same time and realised I wasn't very different from them. 

And since then I haven't been able to walk back inside.

No Aperture.

She lay in between so torn

Waiting for a new light, for new rays of hope,

But there would be no tomorrow, she knew

Tomorrow there would be no dawn.

Her hands weak and shaky,

Her breathe barely there,

Her eyes red and blurred,

From the tears of the pain she'd bared.

Too much came along, 

Too much for her little heart

She burst into fits of anger

And slowly fell apart.

This little soul she tries, she tries,

To fight the tears, to fake the smiles,

This timid creature she cries, she cries,

Body weak from the journey of a thousand miles. 

She lay in between so torn, 

No longerfinding light, no longer finding hope,

She let go of her body and there she goes,

Her neck helpless to the pull of the rope.  

Painted palettes.

If people were colours, our lives would be so much more beautiful, so much more colourful. But sadly,or maybe not so sadly, people are almost never a single shade.There are just so many colours mixed and put into one and even though we're all made up of the same colours, we're so different. 

No one is ever black or white, red or blue. We're just a palette of mixed up, messed up colours, and all so, so very beautiful. 

"If people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane"

"If people were colours, you were a green landscape and I was the brown rocky terrain." 

The Girl Who Had It All.

So she sat there. Her wobbly feet had been running forever. She felt drowsy, dizzy. Her life...she couldn't remember it. Or maybe she didn't want to. Either ways her life appeared as a blur. She cried and cried and cried until every drop of water was out of her now dehydrated body. Just a few minutes ago, she had a family, amazing friends and everything else that the world would envy. And now... Now she'd left it all behind. 

"Why?" She asked herself and maybe the only reason was because she was not happy. She looked down at herself. Her Dior dress. Her diamond bracelet. Her Loubotins. 

Passerby's would quite often say "oh wow, look at that girl. Does she have it all or what?" 

   While she would feel hideous in the prettiest dress. While she would feel lonely in the crowdest place. She had decided that it was her. She was the problem. She thought of how someone couldn't be happy if they had the things she  had.

But then she realised. What did she have ? 

A dad too busy taking phone calls, making money? 

A mother who was always at her little parties ? An elder sister, the kind who overshadowed everything the younger one did ? 

Yes. She was the girl who had it all.

The Stars Shine Down.

''I wish I could fly daddy," said a dreamy little voice. Her father turned towards her, his eyes even dreamier from the stars he was gazing at for the past hour while laying on the grass with his daughter. He said, " I wish I could fly too. It would be the best thing wouldn't it?" He paused, feeling like a twelve year old all over again. That twelve year old boy had always wanted to make a home up there in one of the stars. He loved looking at the stars. When he was young his father would tell him amazing stories about stars. Stories that elevated him, made him feel ethereal.
 His daughter said, "Yes daddy. Then I could fly to Disneyland whenever I wanted." "What would you do daddy ?"she asked.  He replied, " I wouldn't let you go to Disneyland. Instead I would take all of us to one of the stars up there and make a home, and we'd live there forever." His daughter smiled. 
He continued, "You know whenever you're happy, a star is born in the galaxy." She looked at him with utter surprise and said, "Really daddy ? Really? " "Oh yes really," he said. She thought for a moment and asked, "Then what happens when we're sad?" 
"When we're sad," he paused and said,
"The stars shine down
 And watch us live 
 Our little lives 
 And weep for us."

    - Monet Nodlehs. 

Wings for the namesake.

I cannot grow while I'm in a shell

Shallow breaths, insatiable quench 

Drowning deeper into sorrow belts,

For I cannot grow while I'm in a shell

My wings I have for the namesake

Tied with a thread, my flight is cut off

My words not my voice, make all the difference

With words unheard, I want the world to shake,

How can I though? 

I have but wings for the namesake

I cannot grow while I'm in a shell

A shallow empty figure I am

A figure, that hard to the ground fell

While others laughed at my quest

I searched for the unknown in deep unrest

I cannot grow while I'm in a shell

My words not my voice, make all the difference,

With words of love, I want the world to shake

How can I though?

I have but wings for the namesake. 

Ever so Loving.

The greatest barriers come forth
The tallest of them all
They stand right between us
And break our loving bond.

The swiftest dunes sweep us
The darker shadows creep in
The pretty flowers fading
And the eyes of ours weeping.

The treacherous enemies seize us
Their venom it does sting
The best of friends have left us
How many ever bells to them we ring.

We walk past shadows
Not knowing where we'll reach
Our destinations are unknown
But this is what life will teach.

It'll teach you to be strong
To be of the fighting sort
But life itself will bring
To you a standstill,
Wherein you rise and fall.

Though the great barriers come forth,
The tallest of them all
And stand right between us
They'll never break our loving bond.

The swiftest dunes, they sweep us
The darker shadows creep in
The pretty flowers fading
But the eyes of ours are and will always be,
Ever so Loving.

I have loved you all my life.

I have loved you all my life,
I thought of the love,
The memories, the times
The moments shared side by side
For I have loved you all my life.


All the hurt you gave,
The pains, the stressful times.
The underestimation,
I lie a victim of harsh appreciation.


The moments we share,
For love we swear,
For no one we shall change,
For each other we remain.

All the above lines bare no meaning,
For a love that is now ending.


I have loved you all my life,
Thoughts of love,
The memories, the times
The moments shared side by side


The memories, they've come and gone,
Its been such a long time
But to remember you always, I shall never forget
For your love I can always strive

For I have loved you all my life.

Trying.

You are capable of much more than you think you are. The sole fact that everyday, you put up a fight. That everyday, even if you do not accomplish,
You try.
And that is all man can do. All man has ever done.

Promise.

Because agreeing to a promise you cannot keep
Isn't just mere lying,
Its a compromise on your side,
And a heartbreak for the other.

Reality and truth.

And thats just what reality does. When you bring upon a person his reality. A reality that exists but one that he doesn't want to accept. They react in ways they never thought they would, because realities are harsh and unbiased. They are unacceptable and more often than once turn us into people we thought we'd never be. Because deep down inside, we're all just ugly people waiting for our monsters to unleash when we're told the truth. The truth we never want to know. The truth we never want to accept.

First post. Don't really have a heading so this will be it.

                                                    These anxieties, they're killing me,
                                                    The anxieties about a tomorrow,
                                                    A tomorrow filled with uncertainties.

So while I lay in bed, and try, try very hard to sleep,my heart seems to pound right out the blanket. There is much doubt, much guilt. ''Have I utilised today? Have I done justice to everyone around me?'' I ask myself, and yet the answer is even more confusing than the question. I think of the things that make me happy, of all the wonderful people in my life and funny  as it may seem, this thought scares me. What if I don't fulfil their expectations? What if they're expecting someone I know I can't be? What if.......? There are much too many ifs in my head. My head is pounding like my heart, as fast as time, as faint as memories. My state of mind is the only clear thing to me, because I know for sure that it is in the state of confusion. 

So I sit down and put these thoughts to a more suitable place, where they can rest and so can I. So I write, and the pen and paper, like beautiful bliss, like the warmth of pleasant things, put me in a more comfortable place and so I rest. 
                                 For I put in these pen and paper, my trust and share my pain.
                                 And in these lifeless things I put my life,
                                 And it is these lifeless things
                                 From which peace I gain.