Have you met me
How do I look, for I haven’t seen myself,
I am Stretched between today and tomorrow,
Dissolved in my own mess, disparaging my own dreams,
I am a word away from distress,
a second away from my fall, a breath away from my fears,
But Tell me How do I look,
even when I smile with my tears.
Guided by my body more than my soul,
mind mixed with feelings,
Emotions un-ended, thoughts divided.
When I achieve a little of what the world set us to be ,
a little of what my body believed love to be,
I thought I will feel a bit satiated, less hungry less concerned ,
But in the end I was even emptier than before,
It was as if the cup was filled at a distant end,
And I was drinking of its shadow bowl,
Still Processing the imagine I see,
Still resonating with everyone I meet,
But know that I am neither lonely or completely alone,
but I am more like a broken bone,
Supported by the plastered reality of home.
I don’t fall apart at the hours of the day but during the seconds of few minuets.
For In those few seconds,
I sit with an unexpressed truth,
Naked, yet dressing my soul.
with barren words I express myself,
Of a thought still looming on the idea of
An ideal self,
A self unuttered , undisclosed rather prematurely lost,
Like a wave lost in its sea,
Ice melted in its own snow,
Just like meeting silence, in the vacuum of the unknown.
Scared of my own means ,
wasted by own dreams.
I still recycle words to balance, the sore reality of my time.
as if, waiting for somebody to come home,
And rescue me from myself.
But before we leave tell me how do I look
Explain it, even if you see me in parts
Tell me,
Even if you think it’s dark,
Tell me,
That you still see my soul,
Tell me, so that I can explore,
Tell me, there is more,
Lie, So that I can hold on to it,
And be as I may.
Even though I know we are just moving images,
Stored in time and lost in space,
But Lie if you have to so that I can believe,
For like reality destiny is two faced,
And I am not afraid to choose the one burnt by time,
But all I am afraid is to be limited by my own mind,
And become just a syllable, a word,
A maybe.
