Random… Pride..self.. love?the fever.

The burden we call love could easily be hate..

The need to be needed.. the want to be wanted..

The fetal position of the grieving soul..

The penchant for ownership of the soul..

Too weary to follow.. too old to know where it is to be.. where it is to summon itself, to its home?

 

The haughty madam beneath the simpleton..Prays to avenge her pride..

Ain’t she a felon herself?

The girl who pounced in her father’s arms..prays to be set free..

The laughter that kindled her eyes.. the soft lines of nifty smile..

Muffled and ironed beneath the pains of frightful wars fought in her heart…

 

In the end when bones brittle crumple.. and flesh melts..

The hearts surge with combative pain..

Left are two souls lost.. facing  walls grounded on either sides..

The mirror reflecting the ugliness of it all..

In thy own eyes.. the glass shows black..

Pride is harrowing in the pits its own dungeons..

 

Ohh.. the  depths of ditches we dive into..

The sins we commit in the name of love..

Sinful of hateful acts towards self.. and then towards the other..

What is love but a roped..tangled path..

Curious pull.. one strolls and then the moments dribble away..

One is siphoned..tipsy into another Moonlit forest.. another home…

Aren’t you lost yet?

 

Where do you turn when the bridges you built are trampled upon..

Fallen beneath the sea of distance…

When human made altercations.. distractions..  steal the good.. gnarl it from your grasp..

Turn away from home.. to find that you have none..

And only the dungeons and pits.. fraught with felons of your heart..

Where shall you find your freedom now?

Who shall row you back to the haven you once knew?

How shall thee save thyself from distraught nature of thy heart?

Where shall thee find thy home.. thy solace and salvation?

 

 

 

 

 

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Categories: amibiguity, crazy, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, loss, lost, love, memories, poetry, poetry on love | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “Random… Pride..self.. love?the fever.

  1. The first line of your poem reminded me of this line I read somwhere, “There is no one we can hate more than the one we used to love with fervor once.”

    Great piece of poetry Pranita. Nice to be reading you again 🙂

    Like

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