Story of a Loner

Long, long time ago, before you were born
There lived a loner viewed with contempt and scorn
He was a jolly man once, they say she left him cold
These days he seldom walks out, his house is worn and old
I see him coming out and look far from the porch
During the dead night of winter and during the summer day scorch
I never see him close but I know his eyes were wet
Searching far far away, waiting a long wait that no one else will wait
Wanted to tell him, she wont come, you better go inside
But I never went to his house, never had the chance to confide
Today still I see him, from the dusk to dawn
Existence reduced to insignificance, like a chessboard pawn
Squinting eyes, searching eyes, eyes that want to see
His beloved walking down the street, to be where he wanted her to be
World is not fair, the loner is no wiser, the world mocks him even more
Winters come, summers go; the wounds still remain sore
Maybe some of these days I will go to tell him the truth, knocking in his door
But till then, he stays in his porch, his wounds will still remain sore

The Man is Free

Somewhere in the folds and corners,
A spring came loose, insanity
Haunting and feeding on avarice
Demises, triumph upon a dead city
How sad, sadder, saddest our desires
Tearing down our own house, we hoot for bonfires
Somewhere in the woods, a body hangs from a tree
Chains and shackles were worse enough, now the man is free
Disgusted, retching, I flee from the scene, only the moon was sane
They say pain is the way of life, and repeat again and again
No Pain No Gain
To accept the horrors, they became a part of it
The ones who strove to put an end turned into its heartbeat
Now I am alone, only left, the breed dies with me as well
I rant, I chant just because I ain't got a chance in order to fail
I might have done nothing, I might have become another of them
I might have sold my soul like others, for power and oh! fame
I didn't get to fail, they didn't get to see
I can now pretend to be as holy as I can pretend to be
And say again and again, as if the absolute truth is just me
Chains and shackles were worse enough, now the man is free

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick

Sublime fear, of nothing and everything. The road not taken, the road less traveled. What am I going to choose? Who am I going to be? Echoes, just echoes unanswered. Long time since I wrote a prose, why now? Self-satisfaction? haha. I am a selfish soul. Just like 7 billion others. Don't want to be odd one out. Anyway, here I am, there I write, anything everything, nothing.

Nothing coherent, nothing sticking, nothing new, am no wiser am no fool. A way to kill time. No, its killing me. Yeah, slowly and painlessly. Yet, sometimes, in dark I feel it seeping through while I do nothing. Gnawing into me, like a rat. A clever one. gnawing, sharpening its teeth. Waiting for me to fail, take another misstep and I don't know what will happen then. Maybe a tier below, maybe a downfall steeper. I take my chances still. Habituated. I feel like doing nothing. Just let time kill me slowly slowly. And when it kills me, I know just a few people are going to notice. Again as I said, this is a selfish world. Each has to fight time on his/her own. They barely have time to kill time before it tills them themselves. How can they afford a luxury of noticing me gone? I don't blame them, I cant blame me. I don't want to blame time. It has always been there, announcing its arrival. I wait and wait and wait. Oh!!! the wait is long. I have all the time in world to kill before it kills me.