Quote of the day

“In the realm of ideas everything depends on enthusiasm. In the real world everything rests on perseverance.”

~Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe



I’m done being a bystander.

I’ve had enough.

I’d rather be the bad guy, the arrogant, the egoistic maniac;

Than be your normal goody-two-shoe sitting in the passenger seat,

Waiting for you to hand me over the steering wheel of my own life.


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The Blank Page

When you ripped off your chapter from my life,

I found the words of our story again.

They left an indelible mark on the pages of my tomorrow.

And I can still make your handwriting in it.

So, I read it.

And just like that you’ve got me hooked again…

And by the time I’m finished,

Your ‘I love yous’ are the only thing ringing in my ears-

In waves crashing upon my bitter, burned trust- trying to shape it into something else.

And I knew, I needed to stay focused to remember your betrayals;

But the memories kept playing on repeat.

The world crumbled in pieces and the sky crashed down in thunder & sleet.

Drowning my screams and cooling my rage with it.

Leaving me aimless without them…

They say, ‘Once bitten- twice shy’.

But we both know that was never my case.

So, with trembling hands and foggy brain,

A fool is set to write again.

And I wrote…

I wrote how I felt.

And I hoped you’d understand, if not reciprocate.

I wrestled with my fate and the history repeated itself.

Who knew love would be so helpless & weak…?

I ran towards the traces of hope & light.

And soon realised- in the shadows of my past I’ll never find it.

And I thought-

‘This must be how, being stuck in a limbo feel.

The one I can’t have, is the one I can’t hate…

I never understood the madness betrayed love evokes before; 

But I know it now.

A hopeless romantic- crazy in love, 

Is a bitter one, turning looney in his head.

And maybe this is how he stays, enticed by the crooked writings of his beloved.

In love with the impressions on his blank page.

Not able to write on them, 

Not able to move past them...’


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I’m digging a new grave.

I’m burying my heart’s crumpled pieces.

A new breaker,

A new whip,

An onslaught of new memories.

A new definition of torture,

A new meaning of treachery.

I don’t want you to go.

But I’m not going to stop you either.

It’s time.

For every sweet fruit must eventually turn sour,

and every good thing must meet it’s end;

I’m letting you go.

I know it’s going to hurt.

But I’ve always known how to live with pain.

It’s the pride that I can’t seem to live without.

So, let me keep my high standards and uncompromising ego.

And you can keep your mistakes and demeaning love to yourself.

It’s time dear one, it’s time.

Maybe in time we’ll mend again.

But who knows?

All I know is for now it’s time.

For another ending,

For another farewell.

The same familiar scene,

A fresh retake.


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