Poetic Perversion

Your friends all around are having a good time,
All alone are you, lost in reminiscence of else.
You wish to break away, to be forgotten and lost.
The party is not yours, you are not the occasion.
You just sit around and wonder why.

Welcome to the island of poetic perversion,
Where, you can talk and we’d all listen.
We’d pamper, we’d understand, we’d let you explain -
The war thats raging, and how sorry you are.
You, the hero. You, the villain. You, its martyr.

People are dancing for a happy shameless self.
Women are smiling and there is no one behind.
You could write them a song, and share your laughs,
Or a silent cry, of a conscious heart.
Be the romantic, the poet, the friend, the best.

And then, like every calm night, the poem will end.
The music shall stop. Real so cruel, and cozy few lies.
And these words in your head remind you -
Of an amusing joke, that you are.
Nestling emotions in strange lies.

- To Chaitanya, I, in self doubt. Me, a poet. Myself, lost.

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