The Bleeding Rose

A guitar with broken strings
Sings distant tunes of endless, unrequited love
Still dances to the beat
Of broken drums and dreams, uselessly shoved.


A rose in a thorny bush blooms
Caught in the thorns, it bleeds
The blue sky pours tears for it
But fails to wash away the bloody deeds.


A song half composed
Lies untouched by the poet for years
Yellowing pages and crumbling corners
Ink dissolves in tears.


Thoughts fade, memories are washed away.
But the heart still cries for the same sorrow everyday.


Bright sunlight appears like
Blinding stark darkness
The evanescent moonlight
Just lights up the corners.


Shoving away the tears
The heart continues to cry
Evaporating salt and water
The tears run dry.


Out of courtesy, a concerned mother
Places a hand on the drooping shoulder
The heart overwhelmes
And tears fall afresh onwards.


The scars will never recede.
The sorrow just increases.

Where We Belong

We don't belong to this hypocrite of a world.
We don't belong to these green grasses of envy.
We don't belong to the blue skies of sorrow.
We just don't belong to this world that's hollow.

People were born confusing
It's a pity they don't understand themselves
But what makes us different is neat-
I understand you and you understand me.

We were born for a world of our own
Where green is of the grass and blue not of sorrow

We belong to that other world

That's nothing more than my imagination of morrow.