poetry

Guilty

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When I see out there,
All I observe is a cruel world,
Mocking people with more than one can usurp,
There is pain, There is suspicion,
There is feeding on someone else’s emotions.

I stand here feeling guilty of the same,
Every time I laughed on somebody else’s weakness,
I lostĀ  a part of myself, my integrity,
Deep inside I knew it was wrong,
But for some unfathomable reason I carried on,
I feel the misery in me, asking me to promise to never do it again.

But I fear that tomorrow I might end up commenting,
on somebody else’s attempt to try something new,
Maybe a new language or a skill to speak of few.
Or that I might end up mocking somebody else’s petty flaws,
As I desperately hide my own imperfections behind the shallow laugh.

I fear that I will fail to understand how hard one is trying to fit in and to be right,
Not realizing their predicament or how my comment would affect.
Maybe, because of me they would stop trying and I’ll be guilty for life.

It’s a mystery to me how we feel honored in somebody else’s grim?
But who am I to speak?
As I happen to be guilty of the same time and again.

 

 

The Happy GirlĀ 

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The paragon of light,
Stood there smiling bright,
There was an unusual twinkle in her eyes,
Making you question,
‘Whether she was high? ‘

She had the laughter which lingered in the air,
A little too longer to not care.
In darkness too, she would shine.
Making you wonder,
‘ Whether she was high? ‘

Many went and questioned her the same,
She laughed it off, but couldn’t help feeling a little disdained.
Those poor souls didn’t have it in them,
The euphoric feeling of life without being high.

She sadly sighed with a frown,
Which no sooner got replaced by a huge happiness crown.