To the girl, who once loved flowers, freedom,
books and butterflies.
She was greater than the
world, but to the world, she was smaller than a dot
Her roads did not take her to that path of the world
Forgetting her coffee,
skipping her meals; she walked to the noisiest of all streets
She was alone in the crowd,
while others were rushing to catch their life
The people pushed her away,
and no one noticed her fall
She felt lonely, but no one arrived to break her silence
She took crossroads, but
she it led her nowhere
She loved the beauty of
single words, prologues and poems
She loved the volumes
spoken about a single thought
Yes, she loved words and
she fell for them often
She spoke her heart out
always, not knowing when to stop, where to end
She hated being interrupted,
when she was writing or reading or listening to a song
She had her smiles and
tears, even when nobody was there
She learnt to live alone,
alone in a crowd, alone in someone’s company
And that gave her all the
freedom of the world
She had a few rules, but
hated it when someone else did it
She always looked for
mirrors to draw her kajal, and the mirror began to talk
She was like a puddle in the rain, which was
beautiful only at times
People knew, she was
vulnerable and they were intimidated by her strenth
She was a
paradox in her own way.
Some told, she was weak,
while for others, she was strong, obstinate
And for her, she was not
just strong, but strong,
Too strong, to be carried
along with the wind
She was defensive, but fell for all who paid her attention
people came, stayed her for
short span and left,
She didn’t ask anyone to
stay, because she knew; they were not good enough to stay
She didn’t have any loose
threads to hold on,
She didn’t hear any
footsteps, powerful enough to skip her beats
She reacted, spoke
sarcastic but real
The quicker, she got the
strength to loose, loose herself
She was running into
it…running away from something,
Running to something, she
doesn’t know
Her tread of fate stemmed
from a lightest thought
She wanted to stay
invisible, knowing that no one would notice her absence
She began to imagine her
obituary without any fear.
She didn’t have the fear
for the oblivion, because she was curious to know what it is
When life didn’t have
anything to offer for her, since eternity
She felt hungry, hungry to
death.. she searched for those capsules, swallowed it,
And felt numb, tasteless,
no hope, no fears, no sanity, no madness
No umbrellas, no rain, no
tea stalls, no smiles, no tears, no destination
With a death note, “All is
well” - she parted,
Once more proving to be
weird.
It was calm and lost…
Angels can tread only on heavenly grounds
She can’t set her foot on a
‘man-made earth’
May her soul rest in peace
The girl who once loved
flowers, freedom, books and butterflies
