An unsung melancholia...

That  ghetto of thoughts...

Stinks with the unwashed-

emotional lesions,

Spread around the darkness-

Deep in that dying heart.

The walls of veins-

all scratched and tattered.

An urge. 

For the freedom from self.

Coyly smiling at the pain-

That assaulted the tears.

Who is butchering the light?

A hope that once existed!

When all beings rise up 

With that rising sun.

 A fear hides behind that corner.

In that isolated-

Ghetto of thoughts.

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Pictures credit:

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/08/be/c0/08bec012215319df438f06f5a1d58b03.jpg

http://41.media.tumblr.com/8e928bb4dfdc49912c83e655fd0d02ce/tumblr_nrp9ejMPgD1ssite1o1_250.jpg

Reading your mind!

How narrow a mind can be?

When you are worried about a few droplets,

In front of that enormous sea!

And secretly, keep a coin in that pocket-

Inside the vaults of gold ingots, till your knee! 

Still! You complain of no good sleep-

On that bed of linens, warm and cozy!

That discomfort you grow, in that coffin,

Of that narrowness inside you- blur and hazy!

You faked your life-

Of being broad, a sucking flea!

Yes, how narrow a mind can be?

To trespass that narrowed lane.

And boast of being free!

Trapped in that insanity of being sane!

Well, how narrow a mind can be.

When a thread of thousand thoughts gets stuck!

And the vast Universe passes free!

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Photocredit:

http://images.fineartamerica.com/images/artworkimages/mediumlarge/1/bounded-and-the-blinded-m-jf.jpg
http://www.cuded.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/1-Watercolor-Painting_by_adelenta.jpg