Staring out of this window,
Gazing up at the stars,
That light up my world,
As I pull the sheets over my face,
Too much pride is killing,
My vertigo, head is reeling,
Every time I weave a different story,
To justify my feelings and pain,
It rains angst, agony and disdain,
In with the ashes from the smoke of the fire,
Now I'm sick inside without a sense of feeling,
And when I say I'm dead, I'm a liar!
Still waiting to come back to life!
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Somewhere Life Is A Figment of Imagination
6 comments:
May be the answers to this blog might be in my lastest blog :)
BTW u remind me of my senior Dilip Hari...ur writing style is quite like him...but its tuff to crack his poetry or prose...urs is less tuffer 4 me :)
:) i'm quite surprised that my poetry/prose can be categorized under a particular genre'. I follow no specific style. I'm glad u have been able to crack what i'm trying to say in all these. :)
Btw i would love to read your senior Dilip Hari's poetry or prose. Does he blog? Can you send some across to me?
Also, don't you think the word "blog" sounds like "shitting"? ;)
I think i need to look for a particular edition of our college monthly indian association magazine update...u can find his profile on orkut :)
I dont think u belong to a genre either..but ur style resembles his...its not a replica :)
u wanna call that dark forebodings?
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