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Rain

'She burnt me. In vain.'

In little pieces they fall, 

Cool as ice, upon my cheeks,
They pour.
My boiling skin, they touch,
They splutter.
As they roll, they vanish,
Evaporate.
I hold out my hands,
They deviate.
I stand in a puddle,
They leak away.
They run, away, far,
Meandering,
Their escapade.
Loathing, the pouring,
As I count the drops,
It stops to rain.

I look around,
I burnt the rain. 

Allow me

Allow me to stand knee deep in mud
To breathe in the scents of the world
Burying my hands into the vastness of the air
Feeling the wind blow on me.

Allow me to jump into a puddle
And splash little droplets of joy
While I roam aimlessly
On account of a freedom exercised by me.

Allow me to wallow in my own pain
To pick myself up for my own gains
To bash myself for my crimes
And to be allowed to let some slide.

Allow me,
To have the freedom,
Where I don't have to be allowed.

Allow me. 

Ways

I know not your ways
Though I am well versed with the game.
I grasp on to little findings
Clutch on to them tight.

Still I know,
Two steps from here,
What I learnt wont be the same,
It wont be the same game.

Soon, everything around me will change
What I've clutched on to will remain.
It's need however
Will begin to slowly fade.

Before I know it
They will leave stains. 

Fate

The world collapses

Hopes and dreams built,

shatter.

Expectations and outcomes,

mismatch.

The need and deed,

overlap.

The steady feet
Soon falters.
Staggering steps,
Fail.
Trial and sweat,
Conquer,
Still leaving the insides,
Pale.

Momentary decisions,
Regretted.
Shallow actions,
Unveiled.

Years of regret,
Burdened.
Adds to the latest fate.

Grey

For every truth, there is a lie,
For the shining light, there is a shadow.
For every fact, there is a fallacy,
For every new learning, you unlearn.

But things are not as plain as black and white,
For those born into shades of grey.
Grey is personal and different for each,
Grey is the explanation,
That justifies one's deed.

Slay.

You can't persuade a driven mind,

That chooses a path to slay.

Be it one or two or many a fools,

Whose help got them caught in it's way.

(Single quatrain poems are my favourite.)

Shallow

You can't fathom the strength,

That comes with strain,
The hold of the universe,

The beauty of things plain.

Mere words we are allowed,

Things with such restraint,

They barely mean much,

And rarely do they not fail.

Intertwined in complexities,

Miserably lacking in faith,

The only thing that moves us,

Are feelings of immediate pain.

Look sharp into the horizon,

Like old romantics,

Watch the dreams soar like beams.
Look past a reflection,

Watch the undercurrents,

Think of all the things they can mean.

As thickness of thought,

And depth of sense fleets away.
Stands a generation,

Talking about a world to change.

Who needs

For a friend who is too beautiful to be ruined by the whims of a man.

-

Who needs a man,

To be told that the world goes about you.

Words so hollow, so shallow,

That you can almost see through.

Momentary comforts so few,

That it's worth not even it's due.

Who needs a man,

To come knocking at your door

After every aftermath that rocks his floor.

So he can hold ground and take off,

Until the next time, but he wont stop.

Who needs a man,

To wipe away some tears,

When what caused them to flow,

Is the one that really should fear.

Who needs a man,

When you hold your reins,

When you make the calls,

And you can cause your own pain.

Who needs that man,

When you have your own feet to stand.

Let you be

I could whip you with a thought

Then burn you with the eye,

I could punch a hole on that face

Yes, I know that would be nice.

Peel the thick skin that covers you so well,

And prick the raw meat that it leaves.

I could lash you like a washerman,

And drain you till you bleed.

I could do a lot of things to you,

Of all these things,

I would rather just let you be.

The Mother of Battles

(Disclaimer: No conformation to textbook poetic rules what-so-ever. Just emotions mingled with words.)

- -

Battles surround the existence,

Of a small existential lass.

Fighting wars since her childhood,

Commotion was the atmosphere she had.

Time went by and battles did happen,

As she settled in the sands of her time.

A fairy tale took her by surprise,

A harbinger of peace and calm,

Started inside the walls of her courts.

Soon meaning changed and new order was in place,

She smiled more often,

Welcoming the new change.

But the queen of battles,

Was the queen of battles after all.

In the heart of hearts,

The mother of battles,

Fought this one war,

Inside of her like none ever before.

Where be her real self, she worried,

In calm or amidst the unstable scene,

Despite all the calm she tried,

She ended with her own broken piece.

The mother of battles,

Fought her biggest war,

She fought herself, her pride,

And she took the fall.

The mother of battles,

No queen, no royalty,

Just a lass,

Who fights wars daily,

Loses and wins the same fights.

The mother of battles,

Will never be known.

As everyone has battles to fight, their own.

Fade

The smell that lingers upon me fades away,

Along it carries a fading fascination.

As the eyes draw towards other objects in the horizon,

The colour lifts off the skin that it had earlier stained.

Exchanges of mutual admiration,

Refurbishes into mutual acceptance,

Of the faults and the follies and the pain,

Amongst acceptance of the lesser life,

Of a future full of probable disdain.

Or is it me that fades?

From rationality and the freedom of space,

Is it my vision that is passing through a hue?

That colours everything to distinct red and blue.

Even if help comes my way, unless it be from you,

Pointlessness will be bred through and through.

I see you,

But is what I see true?

Or is it the hue?

Look me in the eye.

I see it twinkle, no it wasn't your smile,

Emotions of ranges high.

There was a breath, yes, you're sigh,

Summary of blatant lies.

Shrugged shoulders, creased forehead,

Justifications sent to a really numb head.

String of words that hold no life,

Just words to fill the vast void.

Shadow following your usual gait,

Shades of you that you just made.

A hint of red on your face seen bright,

Not your shame,

Not your misery,

I know that shade,

It's pride.

Look me in the eye,

I died.