Our Revolutions

Us. We.
We can never be part of a revolution. We live in crowds. We shout in whispers. We see through masks. The only ones we kiss are our deaths. The only deaths we face are our lives. Our existence, our presence revolves around the same axis as our absence.
We exist in boxes, we sleep in one, we walk in one, we are sick of one. But, we aren’t gonna break one, the box, for we are scared of living without it: alone, outside.
We are desperate, sad, needy people. We are begging for a revolution. But, we aren’t gonna get one. Not that we lack ideas. No. Only none of us, no one from us has the guts to start one. We can never be part of a revolution.

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Memories

Memories are worse than bullets
This is one of my favourite quotes. I wish I had written it or at least, something as magnificent as this. It is fascinating to see how it captures so many emotions in a single line.
You are going in a local train and it stops at a particular station, you had once got off at with someone. You get off at it again, though it is not your station. You get off because you are suddenly overwhelmed by nostalgia and you just cannot, not go there again.
You sit at the same spots where you used to sit together before. You eat at the same cafe, you buy things from the same store. You climb the same stairs where she had almost fallen down on once before. And, you just look the other way, smiling a little.
Now, you look at the gate where you had left her. You imagine her looking back at you before leaving. She turns around slowly, like she had once when you had called her name for the first time; the first time you had met her. She turns around and she comes back to you running and hugs you. You ask her to stay, but she just has to go.
And, she goes. And, you? Years later, you just stand there, imagining her coming back.
Memories are worse than bullets.

Last Station

I take a train
Everyday to that last station
On my line
And, I know
I’ll meet you there.

But, do not
Do not meet me there.
Do not
Do not wait for me.
For I do not want you to
Regret
Waiting for your date.
I will come.
But, it might be too late.

Travel with me.
Instead
Sit with me
On the ground
As we go through a myriad stops
Twisting and turning
Towards the last station.
Stay with me
Till that last station.
And beyond.

Anarchy

The problem is that we believe.
That we search for reasons.
That we cannot accept chaos
That we cannot see souls randomly floating around
In anonymous expanse.

The problem is that we continue to believe.
That we continue to search.
That we continue to be disappointed.
That we continue to be tortured not seeing the scales
Balancing in themselves.

The problem is that our beliefs aren’t that strong
That our search is not that exhaustive
That chaos is not that accommodating
That by the time we wake up to reality
We would have lost our chance.

The problem is that we are still hoping
That we believe this poem is a lie,
That I am waiting for you to prove it to me
That I am waiting for you to come and tell me
That I am waiting.

Opportunity Cost

Dark clouds
Filled the ashen sky
Slowly, calmly, mildly
Increasing their horror
In light, circular movements,
And, a flock of birds was lost.

A bird
Emerged through the darkness
Rushingly, fleetingly, nervously,
Tearing the horror apart
In quickened straight nudges
But, at what cost?

He emerged alone.
Alone.
People called him resiliant.
And, he was.
But, at what cost.
A flock of birds was lost.

Economics Finals are on.

NaPoWriMo Day 30: Rewind

No, it wasn’t dark.
When you were alive
Shows me how it was
A walk in the park,

Before it was to start.
How it all began
There, I see it again
A walk in the park

The old familiar arc.
The benches we sat on
And, I am back there
A walk in the park

In response to the optional prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 30:

For the last day of NaPoWriMo, I’d like you to try an odd little exercise that I have had good results with. Today, I challenge you to write a poem backwards. Start with the last line and work your way up the page to the beginning. Another way to go about this might be to take a poem you’ve already written, and flip the order of the lines and from there, edit it so the poem now works with its new order.

Original poem: A Walk

NaPoWriMo Day 29: Wait

I would have
Loved you
I would have
If you had not stopped to.

I remember you there
Waiting for me
To be trapped in your machination
In your love, in my imagination.

Waiting for me
For us
Waiting for our world to grow
The one you had woven
Around our souls.
Waiting for me
For us
Only till you changed your world,
Only till you changed your love.

Waiting for me
To love you.
I was about to
I would have.
I could have.
If only
You had waited
A bit more.

NaPoWriMo Day 28: Bridge

In response to the optional prompt for NaPoWriMo:

And now for today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about bridges.

If the bridge broke,
And, I am on the other side,
Would you swim the black sea?
Would you climb the hill?
Would you take a leap of faith?
From over there?
To get to me?
Answer:
You would never be that far.
I wouldn’t let you.