Magnificent

I had a talk with my heart,
She told me she wanted to be looked at,
The way oceans and mountains are.
I then, out of immaturity,
Thought she was seeking beauty, 
But now I realize,
She wanted only to be feared without resistance,
And if admired,
Only from a distance.

~ words above swords ~

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Dear Suicidal Person…. 

Dear suicidal person, 

I know it has been terrible all this time. I know it’s getting harder to carry that heavy heart, and giving up seems like the easiest thing to do. You’re probably tired of all the “it’s all in your head”s, tired of hiding your anxiety attacks, ’cause it’ s too embarrassing.

 But that’s not the point. The point is that the next time you think of taking your life, remember that when the people who jumped off a bridge and got rescued, when asked what went inside their head during the fall, said that all their problems suddenly seemed solvable, and there arose this immense regret about which nothing could be done now. 

The point is, that Linda, who was saved from a bleeding wrist two years back, was singing today. 

The point is that Charlotte, who almost killed herself a year back because a man cheated, was crying today because her ‘a minute old’ daughter is beautiful, and her husband can’t settle on a name for the lil kid. 

That Roger, who used to be depressed, now thinks the toughest thing he does is changing Flynn’s diapers. 

That Steve, who had a problem socializing because of his stammering, just got a tonne of appreciation because his friends loved the doughnuts he made today. 

You’re not realizing today, but tomorrow you’ll know what a blessing you’ve been. Let us all not give up today for the sake and hope of that ‘Tomorrow’. 

1 year, 2 months and 18 days

I ask him over the phone, “How do I look?” 

One year, two months and eighteen days since he last saw me, and yet he has the same answer 

“You look beautiful”

Scribbles

If life was a paper
Mine’s been scribbled over,some by me, some by others,
Lend me, please, a blank sheet
Wish to write it again all over.

Scribbled pages,
Speaking of my cheers and rages,
Written emotions, written feelings
Suppressed under a mesh of ink,

Smudged papers,
Smelling of spilled liquor,
Blue and black, mixed together,

Here I am again, trying to mess
With time and tide
Through scribbles, a bit of past trying to hide,
The other bit, trying to recover.

Scribbles covering my eyes,
Mists surround, fog bound is my head,
Waiting for the wind to blow over,
Make me feel clear and sober. 

Diaries full of blue and black, 
Tired of writing all my rants, 
Bins are full from crumbled pages
A smile waiting to be put on, since ages.

I’ve seen enough of black and blue, 
Where have gone the other hues? 
When will I get to see the other colors? 
Even if I do, who’ll paint me again all over? 

~ Words above Swords ~