Unspoken Verses

So, I was talking to a friend the other day, about how I don't write on my blog anymore. I told her, I'm okay with my life, I don't have anything to say anymore. And it doesn't make sense to talk when you don't have anything to say. Well, I guess, I'm breaking my rule, cuz I don't have anything  to say, and yet I am. I'm in my hostel room right now, in college. My mind and body feel a little worn out. Over what, I'm not sure. At some point, maybe I don't even care, what I do want is to just get away from the wear and tear and get my energy back. I am very fond of this one person, and I guess, we had a bit of a fight, so that could be why. It's probably cuz I'm a lil hyper and screwed up from Kota. Anyhow, I realise that's pointless to fight about. Everyone goes down once in a while I know, but I need to pick myself up and dust off. anyway, talk about different stuff. So yea, I was watching the rap battles from Eminem y...

Look Sharp. All he sees is fog, dense white Diffused light, In the jet black night. Open eyes, And useless sight. Inability to see paths, Wrong from right. He does try, But cannot fight. It's mist after all, Dense yet light. Blinding mist, And useless might. Closed eyes, And there he lies; Waiting for a better time.

Sometimes I wear a fa çade Or I think I do But I'm not certain Cuz believe me you If its even there I've worn it forever And over time, it became me. Enmeshed, not allowing me to see the two entities apart. But maybe thats the beauty Maybe thats the art, Maybe the two entities are no longer apart Now, I call them modes of operation. I'm comfortable in both. One is simple, pure, naive, patient. He feels from the heart, The other's far more wise He's been there from the start Comprehending, rational, guiding and then I realise there are still more. The flirt, the comic, the lover, platonic But the one I like lives above them all, He controls, protects, understands each one. And right now, he's at work healing the one that is simple, pure, naive, patient Cuz he's just been hurt. But, my mind still sees elation. Cuz its not a fa çade thats on display. I am many, occupying one space. The flirt, the comic the lover platonic. Enough of me is always there, and so ...

He looked up at the dark sky as the stars shone. He needed some heat to clear the cold in his bones. Those are suns too, he knew. And the moon reflected the sun too. And so he decided to have his spirit renewed- What else could he do? There's not really a God over you. And to couple that spirit with hope, That maybe someday he would swing the rope. [Dear Diary 1]

He has neither the strength to fight Nor the guts to take away his life All he sees is the dark, so black and deep And failure, so stark and steep He holds back but at times he weeps, Cuz his spirit is completely broke He can't take no more Its all far too gore. [Dear Diary 2]