Tag Archives: slice of life


It’s one of those endless nights

When the world around you disappears

Leaving you all alone

In a cruel desert

With Misery, for company.


The Devil beckons to you

Waving The Past as a clever bait

And you,

Being the fool that you are

Cheered by good old Misery

Run to get The Past

To hold it, to save it,

To treasure it,

Not knowing that it’s nothing

But Poison, in disguise.


The kind of poison

That doesn’t kill instantly

But sucks the soul out of you

Slowly, but surely.


What was once sweet

Now tastes bitter

What once felt safe

Is now scary

What was once beautiful

Is just unrecognizable


You crave life,

Peace and sleep.


But Oh dear heart

Did you forget

That you live in a desert

Which can only be wet

By the tears you shed?

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Not (meant) to be

I went back to wipe a little child’s tears
Tears that I thought I had caused
But in his place was a familiar stranger
Who gave me the tears instead.

Tears that lasted a year
And shook my very core
Blinding me more and more
That I shut Life’s doors

So dizzy was I in a maze
That I fell hard and broke
Not just a leg and head
But every corner of my heart and soul

Now became the child that wept
While the familiar stranger, my savior,
Who helped me out of my maze
And up my weary feet

Oh yet, the tears don’t stop
For they know only too well
That the hand that helped in pain
Will certainly let go again

Dear God, if that Donut, after all
Was not meant to be
What made you wait in glee
Till I let it consume me?

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Have Mercy

Dear Night
I’ve heard that you bring darkness
But for me, you bring daggers
Would you have mercy?

Dear Time
I’ve heard that you cure
But to me, you seem to kill
Would you have mercy?

Dear Life
I’ve heard that you go on
But for me, you have stood still
Would you have mercy

Dear Love
I thought you made hearts stay
But you’ve taken my soul away
Will you not show mercy?

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A Fresh Start

I had always wanted to write.

Somewhere along the way God dropped a slate into my hands. I was not supposed to sketch. Yet I did. I scribbled. The ugly scribble affected the slate as well. What mistake did the slate do? The slate deserved a painting and not meaningless scribbles. I was guilty of starting to scribble but in life you cannot erase what you started out to scribble and so I tried to make a decent painting out of my scribbles. It only became uglier. I paused. Took a second chance at painting. It only became worse.

Reached a point where it became clear that the slate had to go. And it went. I cried for the slate. I couldn’t sketch anyway, so it shouldn’t make a difference that the slate went, right? But it did. I cried for a year over the lost slate. Still sometimes do.

Did I “discard” the slate? Or did the slate just slide away from me? I don’t know. But the slate is no longer with me anymore. I don’t sketch anymore.

Then I remembered, I had always wanted to write. When I first chanced upon the slate, I ignored the fact that I liked to write. Big mistake. “Let me write at least now”, I thought. So I went out to buy a pen and paper. Thought I’ll write a story about my slate. As Fate would have it, the shop I went to did not have pens and papers right then. They would take some time. A year or two, he said. He asked me to get them somewhere else. But I loved the stationary in the shop. Was always my favorite.

The shopkeeper did not seem to want to help me. He did not seem to understand that they stocked some of my favorite pens. Should I tell him I’ll wait till they restocked? Would he think I was crazy to wait a year for a few pens? Or should I just leave the shop?

Or should I JUST give up writing and sketching and maybe…sing instead? My family always wanted me to sing.

Something new? A fresh start?

But if I did that, I will have forever lost the slate. I will have forever lost the chance to write. But I may, just may, sing well. Should I cry forever over the lost slate? Should I wait for a pen and a paper?

Or should I start afresh with a song, maybe?


On your mark. Get set. G-g-g-

Nope. I can’t seem to be able to “Go”. The clock’s ticking. Mercilessly, too. Yet, it is as though we are all still frozen in time.

Turns out I realize the full meaning of the phrase “before you know it” only now. I find myself thinking, “How am I suddenly 22?”

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