When the phone rings

Poetry

My phone rings and I’m rattled,
To pick or not, I battle,
For I fear the news,
Shall give me bruise,
I don’t want to hear,
How I lost someone dear,
Every ring gives me terror,
Bad news they deliver,
Almost one person each day,
Is taken far far away,
Friends, family, relatives,
All wiped away by diseases,
With no pause in between,
Deaths after deaths I see,
Yet somehow we’re expected,
Very easily demanded,
To be just as productive,
Just as creative.

Photo by MART PRODUCTION from Pexels

How Are You?

Poetry

To be honest, I’m not fine.
I wish I could get some wine,
Forget everything that’s going wrong,
As I listen to some sad songs.

Is this the answer you can digest?
A little time, can you invest?
Tell me that it will all be okay,
Listen to all that I have to say.

Hug me tight and warm,
Make me forget problems that swarm,
Let me shed a river of tears,
Let me pour out all my fears.

But this isn’t what you want to hear,
‘Cause, frankly speaking, nobody cares.
I was okay until you asked me,
How I really am? I was forgetting it.

But damn, you and your courtesy,
Saying things you never mean.
Can you just quietly walk away?
“I’m fine.” Why do you need me to say?

Featured image by: Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

A Happy Trance

Poetry

I smile a bright dazzling smile,
“I’m so happy”, I lie.
I coat myself in the happy vibes,
And I am on cloud nine.


I do my jolly happy dance,
Dive deeper into my happy trance.
“Oh, I’m so happy,” I scream,
Happiness bubbling to the brim.


I sing cute nursery rhymes,
And I pretend to be a child.
As the pretty windchime chimes,
I jump in joy and smile wide.


And after a beautiful happy day,
On my cozy bed, I lay.
Slowly my energy seeps away,
And I’m embraced by reality.


With no power to hold on,
Shattered is my illusion.
I had no reason to be happy,
I did a great job fooling myself.

Find me on Insta: Wild Scared Crazy

Featured image by: Messan Edoh from Pixabay

Not fine…

Poetry

I haven’t been reading your blogs,
Nor have I been writing my daily logs.
I’m sorry for not replying,
Doesn’t mean, I’m not appreciating.

 
Before you start to worry,
I’m perfectly fit and healthy.
Yet, I haven’t been feeling fine,
Unknown emotions wrecking my mind.


I can’t sleep well at night,
Days I sleep, I can count on my hand.
Unable to embrace the beautiful bright,
I’m stuck in a sad, scary land.

 
I don’t know when I shall be back,
Energy to communicate, I lack.
But I shall try to keep up my daily writings,
To let out the thoughts that’s haunting.

Featured image by: Craig Adderley from Pexels

Men don’t cry

Poetry, Writer life

Son fell and scrapped his knee,
Bawling his eyes out, he called his daddy.
Daddy wanted to kiss the boo-boos away,
But ‘boy’s don’t cry,‘ is what daddy said. 
After all, that’s what he was taught,
Men are to be strong and emotionless. 

Sick wife struggled cooking for the family,
She wished her husband would give her a hand.
Husband’s heart broke looking at his wife,
But all he did was sat and stared.
After all, that’s what he was taught,
Men don’t do the household chores. 

Daughter wanted a bicycle,
Broke father couldn’t afford one.
Heavy-heartedly he got her a Barbie doll,
But ‘girls don’t ride‘ is what he said.
After all, that’s what he was taught,
Men can’t be vulnerable.

Sister got her heart broken,
Poured her heart out to her brother.
His brotherly heart broke too,
But ‘why were you involved with him‘ was what he said.
After all, that’s what he was taught,
Men are to be Stern and tough. 

He hated the way he behaved.
Each day his heart ached,
To be there for his loved ones, he craved.
But he just watched their pain.
After all, that’s what he was taught.
But wasn’t he a human too?

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Featured image by: Foundry Co from Pixabay

Death wish

Poetry, Writer life

I wanna slit my wrist

And stab a dagger through my chest.

I wanna feel the pain

As the red liquid flows out my vein.

Empty my mind slow and steady

As I drift into a forever sleep.

I want close my eyes

Never to open once again.

It’s a beautiful life

But death seems all the more pretty.

Image by Robert Balog from Pixabay

Suicidal Instincts

Poetry, Writer life
‘Who am I?’, I question myself,
Why am I feeling so dead inside?
I feel tears well up in my eyes
But I don’t understand why.

Then I mask up a smile
And go on with my life,
Rush and rush the day goes
Staying busy helps me get by.

But in most unexpected of moments
Clouds of gloom envelops me again
And I’m there wondering,
Why am I suddenly so sad?

Some days I want to slit my wrist
Or jump off the tallest building
Then I wonder, why would I do that?
I’m a girl who loves life.

I ride my bike the fastest I can
And for a split second, imagine me dead
Then realization hits me straight
Why am I thinking that way?

Why am I drawn so much to death?
This terrifying suicidal instinct!
I’m a girl who loves life
I’ve got so much to live.
Image by Goran Horvat from Pixabay