Defeat

Summer time comes again,

Changes everywhere can be seen,

Except for the self who wishes to be changed,

Still waiting for it to alter itself.


Deeper and deeper my roots grow,

Harder and staler is the heart,

Engulfed in pride and ignorance,

Reminiscing the trivial past,

Clueless as before and heading towards the unknown future,

What a gamble this being is.


What is the meaning of this so-called purposeful journey?

When the moral is weak and when the mortal is a mortal,

So lost and confused, dazed and programmed,

Idiotic hereditary traditions, created by falsehood and blind desires,

I am now blind in the light, an empty vessel walking unknowingly.


Sadness and hatred, tears and remorse,

All will be waiting to be fulfilled,

What is this joke played unto everyone.

No answer is needed, this weak mortal is already dead.

Fields of Fields

Sunflower fields glistening and happy,

So vibrant and colorful in the bright sun,

Flashes and glimpses, Imaginary and escapism,

But to no avail reality snaps back,

In the present it is, reality snaps back.


Gaining knowledge and earning for wisdom,

Self-acceptance and acknowledgement,

Getting ready for it to happen,

Backups and plans are all in order,

And then it happens, now I am shattered beyond words.


For I feel, hence I fall,

Cursing the soul’s characteristics,

What is this emotion that changes like the weather,

Happy when I am full, gloomy when I am hungry,

Pleasure and pain makes me desire,

What is the purpose of this satire?


Starving to feed this empty chest,

At the end, during the night,

It feels like filling water in a broken vase.

The subconscious is now hurt and waiting for it’s revenge,

The conscious remains worrying about what to wear tomorrow.