The plucked rose

I pluck the velvet white rose,
And I’m pricked by its guards, They prick me and have me bleed, But my evil intentions succeed.

The rose rests in my palm,
Smiles with a dignified charm, With my guilt full to brim,
I look back at the crying thorns,
No remedy, no balm,
Could do good the harm.

The lucky rose,
That raised fighters when attacked,
And left mourners when it froze, With its petals now blue,
Lies dry with no dew.



A Poem

A poem tells all,
But it lets out nothing.
A poem describes the pain,
But it hardly shows the wound.
A poem is cathartic,
But you see it as decorative.
The pink of the face is not always a blush.

My mind got its wings


My mind! It’s not mine
It’s got those wings that know no limits.
It flies swift through the air with swifter, desperate heart.
Believe me! It has seen the end, the end of the sky.

Where the world and its frivolities end,
Where life and its strife cease, Where anguish and joy embrace, Where tears and smile collide Begins its journey my little mind. My fatigued mind,
My obstinate mind.

And it runs,
Runs as a fugitive runs for life,
Runs as a bird runs from cage for freedom.

And it falls,
Falls on the ground,
Down to the earth,
Falls as a bird falls on its wings smirched in tears,
Falls from the high, forgotten to fly.

And it bleeds,
Bleeds tears,
Tears of determination,
Determination unperturbed.

And it cries,
Cries for help,
Help from divine,
Help in not losing the shine,
Shine of the courage,
The courage to dream.

And it rises,
Rises from the wet wings,
Onto its feet,
Stands with its mind,
Made up for another go.

With its chest filled with air,
Air of fire,
That burns hopelessness,
Fuels desires.

And the bird dries,
Dries its wings,
By the heat inside.

And my mind flies,
Flies again,
Keeps flying.

10 things that don’t matter! Absolutely!

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  1. Sometimes you choose because you like, at other times you like because you chose.
  2. Your life just stopped for a while.
  3. You are good.
  4. You have had enough.
  5. You are dressed to kill or you are wearing astonishingly awkward clothes.
  6. You have a great future and you had an ostentatious past.
  7. You are a genius or you are an idiot.
  8. You just lost.
  9. You have decided.
  10. You exist.

And what matters? Well. Nothing.

A willing heart wins…

With a hundred questions I’m left alone

With a hundred haunting dreams,

With a hundred thoughts of grief,

With a hundred cries of demons.


To partner the pain I’m left alone

With a hundred urges to sleep,

With a hundred words of disappointment,

With a hundred suggestions to die.


For a hundred swords against my will

I have a willing heart,

A hoping heart,

I have a faith that will rise from dark

And with bravery win all.

For what I have learnt from defeats of my life is,

That no human, no enemy, no strength,

But only will wins.