Kiss of Death

As she toddled by,

The flowers started to droop,

“Ashamed that she was prettier than the flowers"

Reasoned I.

The bright sun buried his face behind a cloud,

Casting grayness, along her path,

"Ashamed that she was brighter than the sun"

reasoned I.

Even time seemed hesitant to flow

"Ashamed that her motion was smoother

and unpredictable than the flow of time"

reasoned I.

Though conscious of my following her,

She pretends to be unaware of my presence, and

With a smile, quickens her pace.

As she flitted into a dark alley,

It felt as if the darkness itself foraged,

to seek sanctuary behind her.

soon, I lost track of her,

as I stood there lonely, in the dark alley,

Overcome by darkness around me and grief as well,

drowned in sorrows of my life, I stood.

"You seem to be in great sorrow"

A melodious voice remarked.

I brightened up, sorrow and darkness long forgotten,

I turned around and faced her.

"After a kiss of mine,

None of an Evil, shall ever befall you"

she assured me with a pleasant smile.

I smiled and closed my eyes,

I felt her lips on my cheek.

"What might your name be?"

Asked I.

"DEATH" came back the whisper

And, I thereafter never opened my eyes.

Indeed, It was true,

"After a kiss of hers,

None of an Evil shall ever befall me,

For there was no greater Evil,

Than, the Kiss of Death".

The Stranger in the Mirror

Psychopath behind a mask of sanity,

And intelligence, an eager excuse,

To escape the asylum.

The innocence of youth,

Eluded behind an unnaturally calm face.

The mirror is no liar,

The man has indeed changed.

Why the change?

Has he learnt so much?

Or has been hurt so much?

Where has he veiled the rage of the past,

That defined him, that destroyed him,

That deterred him, that defeated him?

A poor illustration,

For a shadow of the past,

For he is not me,

But, The stranger in the mirror.

I am a Psychopath

I am a psychopath,

My life would end more like Sylvia Plath,

I have got a very sick mind,

Maybe, just one of a kind.

My life’s been a great distress,

For over li’l things I obsess.

Like a symmetrical light wave from a lantern,

World for me is just a beautiful pattern.

Numbers make more sense,

Than, words ever did.

Every teacher since pre-school mention,

I never paid them any attention.

Like an element that is radioactive,

I was so hyperactive

That I end up in loads of trouble,

No matter how much the punishments double.

I know, I never meet eyes,

Makes ‘em think I am full of lies.

I never feared the paranormal,

As thoughts about death for me is normal.

You might wonder,

Where are the rhymes?

There are no rhymes,

But patterns, and only patterns

Look closely and you will see reality,

Of my pale mentality.

I am not a Poet,

I am not a Physicist,

I am not Creative,

I am not Original,

I am not your Friend,

I am not your Lover,

I am just a Psychopath.

Minds With A Disorder

People knew,

that apples fell down,

and the moon waxed and waned,

But, none dare connect them.

People knew light travelled very fast,

But none dare dreamed to race it.

People knew the skies,

But, none dared explore it.

People knew Aristotle’s word a fallacy,

But, none dared question it.

People knew about ideas that changed the world,

But, none dared think of one.

A man may die, nations may rise and empires may fall,

But an idea lives on.

Ideas have endurance without death.

Stable ideas have always been implanted,

By unstable minds.

Minds that were Inattentive, Impulsive,

Distracted and Restless,

Minds unbound by harsh reality.

Minds that could bring order out of disorder,

Minds that themselves had disorder.

Note: "A man may die, nations may rise and empires may fall but an idea lives on. Ideas have endurance without death." is a famous quote by John F. Kennedy.