To the Men Who Lie

Because objects shouldn’t have a voice,

And whatever objects, is never a choice.

There are men that knit stories of affection,

Stories of love, and stories of dedication.

They make you believe that you’re important than their life,

Then they tell the same thing to the next in line.

Yes, you’re like season and seasons always change,

There’s never one constant, but after every change, it rains.

Yes, feelings are important and they feel too much,

That’s also one reason why one woman, is seldom enough!

They lie unsurprisingly and it’s difficult to tell,

After all, they bind you with their bewitching spell.

They are dangerous, than danger itself,

Because they haven’t yet discovered themselves.

Every woman is nice as long as she falls for the charms,

But if she questions something, it raises an alarm.

Such men like their women timid,

That are meek and unarguably stupid,

Because objects shouldn’t have a voice,

And whatever objects, is never a choice.

They believe heartily that nothing is permanent,

And that’s their reason, for the short arrangements.

To the men that lie, we know who you are,

The times have changed, your lies have travelled afar.

To the men who lie, know our hearts have fortified,

The declaration of love, no longer makes us blind.

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

 

 

Circle of Life

I have been running around in circles,

With no set destination in mind,

The world around progressed too much,

& I got pulled far behind…

Circle of life, Changes through the years, walking out of the past, bidding goodbye to memories, memories, past

While I waited to live, the life almost got over &

I realized the mortal I was meant to be,

When I stood at the crossover,

The traffic of insecurities jammed the heart,

The web of memories fogged the path.

Life needed a closure I realised.

Of all the weary mistakes,

I understood, I was still paying the price.

Acclimatizing was even more difficult,

The world brimming with youth, and me much older…

Every day I elude the unacquainted smiles,

I avoid the greetings made by the passer-by’s.

It pierces my heart, to know that I don’t fit in any longer,

I try to act brave but my heart isn’t any stronger…

The day progresses and then comes to a halt,

& the tears wash away the anxieties at fall.

I want to give up desperately and not get up at all,

I still force the wrecked carcass to crawl.

Why, I still pretend I ask myself,

Why doesn’t this wretched journey ever end?

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya
Image Courtesy: Miriam Aroeste http://miriamaroeste.com/portfolio/

At my narcissistic best

I realise I am conceited, I have been told so.
I know my reality, maybe you don’t know.
My struggles smothered me,
And lies soothed me at a time when the possible was slipping away from my fingers…

Most of what I see is a mirage,
The reality obscure and imagination captivating
The diaphanous glass lets me touch my nebulous reflection,
It’s faint yet overbearing.
I realise I am conceited, I have been told so.
I know my reality, maybe you don’t know.
My struggles smothered me,
And lies soothed me at a time when the possible was slipping away from my fingers…
I don’t display much, and what you perceive is a lie.
My rules may be slightly outrageous and possession extreme,
But my life has been blotched, yours I understand is pristine.
Don’t weigh me on the same scale,
My worries have made me heftier.
I am better than you I believe, even though my wallet is emptier.
I may not react to anguish in the same manner as you…
I have learnt to live like this, no matter how crude!
Judge me, criticize me and call me what you do,
But remember that my world is my own,
& my feelings too!!

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya


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