Metaphorical – Virtual Marionette

March 11, 2024

Who are you? (4)

I have known you for a while!
Distant places reach out to me
Like photos in the album of my memory.
Words stuck in between pauses,
Phrases lost in translation,
The poignant sound of silence-
Remind me of a surreal ‘you’.

The waves of time hit on the shores
Of what my eyes cannot perceive.
A sharp jab of pain unnerves me.
Reality is but a knife widening the cracks
Of my delusional fantasies.
Question marks keep piling on my answers.
A never-ending battle between my needs and wants
Creates a face that resembles yours.
Who are you?
A treacherous game that never finishes,
Or a ray of hope that never diminishes?

P.S.: You might also want to have a look at the other parts of ‘Who are you?’. Check my previous posts for that.

December 7, 2021

Trance

My eyes soaked in insomnia
Show me an untouched palette.
Never did I bother to know
This monochromatic existence,
Replete with fables of stoical forbearance
Of reality,
Was my only respite
From the treachery of this multihued world!
How can I complain?
Can happiness fight with its reason,
Time and again?

The colours that I see,
Paint a picture no better than yours;
There, I see you broken,
In bits and pieces, on fire burnt pages,
But I still tremble with love
When I hear your voice in silence.
How can I complain?
Can sobriety fall for inebriety,
Time and again?

April 29, 2020

Broken

I am a broken vase,
Not shattered by the wind.
Thrown away by free will,
That is my fate.
The road is unclear,
Smothered in dither.
Yet, I choose my destination
To wash away the cracks
Of Destiny.

I am a broken vase,
Trying to survive,
To put my pieces together,
Only for you.
I know, beauty is long lost,
My marks will stand out
And humiliate me often.
Yet, I will contain your flowers
With utmost pride.

December 15, 2019September 8, 2021

The Room

In a Room full of unuttered words,
Monotony creeps in through the window.
Dying notes compose an unfamiliar melancholy,
Silenced grievances begin to crescendo.

Bonfires of wishes glow in the black,
We often get tricked by some qualities that they lack.
The Room is proud of his years,
For it is not easy to hide stories and the stains of tears.

The dusty experience of the paintings,
Portray incidents that often tarnish the Room.
Never do we see him,
Lost in the shadows of gloom.

A framework so strong,
Nobody dares to tamper with his core.
Years pass and decades roll,
He still welcomes his folks with an opened door.