Half a decade ago,
A feeling like this was felt!
It yet again started as fun,
Alas! the sneak peaks rose.
Little bit of stalking,
Minimal words of talking,
and she's already a lover girl.
Half a decade ago,
A feeling like this was felt!
The nerves of the stomach wriggled,
Some pink always bursted in to cheeks.
Few random assumptions here,
Tiny pieces of hope there,
A big chunk sinking in 'worry,'
Counting all the freaks of past.
Half a decade ago,
A feeling like this was felt!
Emotions had overwhelmed her heart,
Life had complained about unnecessary wastage.
From then to now, she waits,
At the square one of those 'red tiles,'
Except eagerness made one leg rise,
And the wait on a single leg suffers.
Half a decade ago,
A feeling like this was felt!
That feeling, which was missed.
That feeling, which was dreaded.
And now, the palms are just open.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
And She Turned For A Bit...
She sat there wanting to bite her nails. Alas! Once in a while they are grown and biting them would almost be like a sin. Also, she kept clicking the different tabs on her internet browser. So, that is the new way of seeking inspiration now.
Ting! And then the chat window notified a new message. Phew! Saved by the Ting!
Some random day, you just look back and yearn to be what you were. That version may not necessarily be the best version but you still want to be that or at least a certain part of it. I miss that ability to make a blog post out of any random or special event of my life. It's like you are craving to write but even something inspirational or blog worthy is unable to form words in your head. You know, the automatic flow of words that just spring up out of nowhere and then you improvise on those? Maybe that's how beggars feel (at least the genuine ones). They really want to eat but they can't for various and obvious reasons of course!
But then you are so desperate to write that you do and feel guilty about spamming your own blog and uselessly increasing the number of posts on it. There is anger and tears. There are nails digging in to your palm. There is this insane amount of emotions that you need to throw out (like puke). But every next sentence you form is like "doing ten suicides in a row, during a basketball workout (body not in form)." Then there is time constraint because you have a morning shift at work the next day.
Lastly, there is a lot of suffocation! It is not cool man! It is so not cool!
But you have to end the post because nonsense generally, has no end and there is only so much spamming that I would like to do to my blog.
Ting! And then the chat window notified a new message. Phew! Saved by the Ting!
Some random day, you just look back and yearn to be what you were. That version may not necessarily be the best version but you still want to be that or at least a certain part of it. I miss that ability to make a blog post out of any random or special event of my life. It's like you are craving to write but even something inspirational or blog worthy is unable to form words in your head. You know, the automatic flow of words that just spring up out of nowhere and then you improvise on those? Maybe that's how beggars feel (at least the genuine ones). They really want to eat but they can't for various and obvious reasons of course!
But then you are so desperate to write that you do and feel guilty about spamming your own blog and uselessly increasing the number of posts on it. There is anger and tears. There are nails digging in to your palm. There is this insane amount of emotions that you need to throw out (like puke). But every next sentence you form is like "doing ten suicides in a row, during a basketball workout (body not in form)." Then there is time constraint because you have a morning shift at work the next day.
Lastly, there is a lot of suffocation! It is not cool man! It is so not cool!
But you have to end the post because nonsense generally, has no end and there is only so much spamming that I would like to do to my blog.
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