We bomb down civilian planes, shoot in theaters, schools, concert halls, hotels and hospitals.
We kill, maim, thinking that’s the way a point has to be put across. We kill people to protest against killing other people.
We silence, wound, orphan and widow.
We find guns more useful than words.
Bullets more useful than thoughts.
Blood more useful than ink.
We shun peace.
We encourage hatred.
We witness 9/11, 26/11 and the likes.
We witness kids less that 10 being killed in places they called their second home.
We still ignore.
We are Paris, Peshawar, Beirut, Mumbai, new York, Boston, Lebanon, Palestine, Syria and anywhere else that someone has to worry whether he’ll come home safe.
We’re the world.
What’s with this four-lettered word
That makes the world go round
People weak in their needs
Bank balances fed to rose leaves
High expectations and low esteem
Happy people and sad hearts
Hearts drawn by pen on paper
Cream on lattes
Fingers on dust-covered glass
What’s ironic is, that isn’t a human heart at all
Is happily ever after measured by Ferraris, song references and PDA
By Facebook status’ and social standards
By what the law states
Or religion preaches
Or By what is the general norm
On Tumblr web pages
Are we romanticizing romance
Screwing everything that’s good.
To make it work?
A question I’ve been having since the inception of love.
how can relationships end.
to never begin again.
even in the most tiniest of ways.
from a friendship to a gaze.
how can love stop.
to turn into nothing at all.
finite. by a few.
actions, deeds, or words.
are relationships merely contracts.
clauses of undescribed pda.
love and tender affection.
to end with the demise of commitment.
what happened to the emotions.
to the hand holding.
do you mean to say that it was nothing at all.
just a ruse?
how can two people.
who have been together.
under the bond of what they call love.
cease the existence of the other.
for the bond the brokered.
An explanation, an apology letter, a rant.
Being seventeen is not easy,
Difficult an understatement.
The constant need to have a perfect persona,
For someone not even worth it.
To study more than to sleep,
To spend every living moment multitasking
To actually having to make time,
To chit chat with family
I hate seventeen,
I detest it.
I’d rather be two or even four,
Bundled in the cradle of innocence.
While I may be seventeen,
In a society that is so judging.
I constantly yearn to break free,
From the social shackles of society.
It’s like a relationship.
A very dysfunctional one at that.
You don’t get me, I don’t get you.
Still we slowly try to amend our differences.
I by reading you and learning.
You by being well you
And hiding secrets I don’t know
But yet we work together hand in hand.
To save our relationship from the failure.
You’ll never understand me l I’ll never understand you
Eleven years we’ve worked
At finding out the truth.
We shall work a couple of years more.
And maybe our efforts will bear fruit.
Because I’ve been showing more interest in writing poetry than theories of psychology and what not I have decided to make this a series, What will I use the random snapchats of my books for otherwise?
I’m a bruised up warrior,
This battle has hit me hard.
From all directions,
And I’m just ripped apart.
But I face you,
With my headache,
And my tortured brain.
Fight against you with my green tea,
And my highlighters aplenty.
While you try to attack me,
With definitions and theories.
This isn’t just a exam,
This is world war three.
Between you and me books,
Consider me hooked.