I have told you a lot of stories,
Mr. Miller's life and his art,
About his love and his broken heart.
A tale of two countries,
And a battle amongst two enemies.
About young people losing vision,
Committing sins without any reason.
A few characters i tried to draw,
Tried creating them without any flaws.
I showed you a magician's charm,
Out of illusion he showed you a realm.
I also wrote about the world's biggest play,
The puppeteer's show ran through night and day.
These were all essayed down in my diaries.
I wrote about almost everything,
But missed on one, One so close to me,
About me, the story of a writer.
A writer who writes all bitter,
A man who tried living as an optimist,
but always landed on the other side.
Though i was never an atheist,
But yet i wrote the wrongest.
And now i have kept aside my wry,
and decided to see this world,
with a different EYE!!!!
Friday, 30 December 2011
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
This is how i am!!
Sorry but i wasn't born rich,
I was, i was the underprivileged.
My entire childhood got ruined,
i grew up living in slums,
Not born with a silver spoon,
But born with a few symptoms.
And was i given a few bruises,
And dreams,those were just burnt down,
burnt down to ashes.
You called me filthy and untouchable,
But i guess that feeling was all mutual.
Some of my sisters were sent to brothels,
And a few brothers,
they chose to be nothing but scoundrels.
And i couldn't choose, 'cause i was young,
So they sent me to beg and live.
You know why i am a cripple,
'cause my life was ripped by an evil.
But i am growing up and becoming brave,
All to fight for, for a 6 foot grave.
I laugh at it,
And i pray, i pray to God,
Not to give much of me to this world.
But i am blessed,
To have this life,
to carve a niche,
So that the rest don't fall where i am....
I was, i was the underprivileged.
My entire childhood got ruined,
i grew up living in slums,
Not born with a silver spoon,
But born with a few symptoms.
And was i given a few bruises,
And dreams,those were just burnt down,
burnt down to ashes.
You called me filthy and untouchable,
But i guess that feeling was all mutual.
Some of my sisters were sent to brothels,
And a few brothers,
they chose to be nothing but scoundrels.
And i couldn't choose, 'cause i was young,
So they sent me to beg and live.
You know why i am a cripple,
'cause my life was ripped by an evil.
But i am growing up and becoming brave,
All to fight for, for a 6 foot grave.
I laugh at it,
And i pray, i pray to God,
Not to give much of me to this world.
But i am blessed,
To have this life,
to carve a niche,
So that the rest don't fall where i am....
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