"Precious" are few things...

You are not my mirror,
But how can you reflect my thoughts?
You are not quinine
But how can you still sooth my disease?
You are not an author
How yet can you play with words??
You are not a gun
But why then, your statements hit like a bullet to strike the rightest point?
You are not the roof
How can you make me feel sheltered in the rains?
You are not an armor
But why do I feel so secured with you?
You are not a drug
Then why am I addicted to you??
You are not 'The air'
Still why does your absence suffocate me?
You are not a tissue,
Why do I need you the most for my tears?
Who are you??
My strength?
Or my weakness?

Boredom......

It sometimes amazes me to see how a day can be so diametrically opposite the previous. I don’t know how people tend to "phase" their lives.

I mean, just yesterday at 2:00 am I was listening to a friend who was bored and explaining “oh crap! So many things are there for you, how can you possibly get bored!!!” and just today, the same time almost, I feel so bored that I am bored to sleep even. So bored that I’ve painted this mind almost as black as night now…..

Not that I would have come up with a contradiction of relativity theory or invented a new way to get rid of pesty neighbours, but still I could have easily done myself a favour by reading some pages.

Occasion: boredom

Courtesy: monotonous point.

Slumbered Soul...

I was holding the tide when I loved the motion

I was naïve when I loved to sense

I was quiet when I wanted to yell

I sereneted when I wanted to aggress

I dreamt when I loved to sleep

And…..also ..

I slept when, I loved to dream….

I smiled when I wanted to cry

I complimented when I wanted to grouse

I thought it candid when it was tactful

Why does this soul slumber now?

When there is a keen desire to subsist