If you peel the beetroot bulb , does it blush or is it just the way it was always ? Ah …men and their fantasy , I smile. Even if you condescend to be just a weapon in a revenge plot , Do you really think I can reduce you to that size or stomach deception for my selfish reasons? I find a lamp in the storm , too sober for arson. Some parts of my terrain have been quiet forever , no one knew to find my depths or touch the tips of curves , they are soft in their solitude.Like the sky who knows where she kept her fluorescent pen on a cloudy night. There is company in the tear drops on one more pair of young cheeks I was wiping last evening in a dim lit psychiatry ward.


Afraid of working 24X 7
yet not helping another to live
instead hear he died at his own
hands…….Afraid of loving a man
who may see me as an investment
not paying the expected dividend
or as a photograph that got folded in all the wrong corners.I am afraid to live in a house with
a mirror with out a reflectionAn opaque surface where nothing Is impressed. I am afraid of preferring to talk to a stone than a man one day I am afraid of thinking Intuition is just a random choice Not a gift of God.I am afraid of sending e-mails to
my self , hoping to be understood
By a thief who will be interested
enough to break genuine friendships
But will never offer me company
I am afraid of getting addicted
to a routine with consistent
sparks of creativity helping others , fooling my self to thinkI am making a difference or I am not like disposable contact lens that never is worn
to sleep.. I am not afraid of dramaI am merely afraid of calling it a reality since I believe it as a reality
I am not afraid of death
I am afraid of dying
Dying life like mortals
Living death like immortals