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Randomly Abstract (Drawing Hatred)

Can you draw hatred?
‘Draw hatred?’
Yes, hatred!
‘No, how do we draw it?’
Like this!
I showed her what I had made.
‘What is this?’
This is hatred.
‘This is hatred?’,
She would repeat.
Yes, hatred.
‘And?’
And Anger.
And all those questions,
Those disturb me.
So I have poured here,
On this once-a-blank sheet,
All that was inside me.
All burning questions,
And hatred,
And anger,
Agony,
Miseries,
Mishaps,
Memories.
It is a canvas of my thoughts.
A harsh painting.
A disrupted photo.
A broken vase.
Numerous fragments,
You will fail to count them.
These lines,
Are not just lines.
These spots,
Are really blots.
Blots,
That made my life so ugly.
These sharp edges,
Are the knifes,
Those were used to kill me.
‘Kill you?’
Yes!
The swords of words,
Impertinent words,
Killing words,
Words that took my life,
‘You are alive!’
No, I am not!
Can you see me alive?
Living is not breathing!
LIVING IS NOT JUST BREATHING!
I am breathing,
I am not alive.
I AM DEAD!!!
These colorful dresses that I wear,
I see them black.
This home,
Is my coffin.
This world is my grave!
I am not alive!
My life is this broken vase,
Fragments scattered,
Here and there,
I see them everywhere.
These blots,
They itch!
These scratches,
They give pain.
You would now say,
That I have gone insane!
But I am not insane!
I am just a dead soul,
Compelled to live here,
Until my benefactor,
My death returns!
I want to die literally,
So that no one could see me,
No one could point out,
And say,
“Oh what a poor girl!”
No one could sympathize,
For the broken vase,
For things are meant to break,
And my heart is one of those.
‘Its time you sleep.
Get some rest, my friend.’
No, don’t stop me.
Please don’t.
For this one last time,
Let me speak.
Let me tell you where I have been,
What I have gone through,
Oh let me speak.
I have had the worst days,
Of my life.
Life, oh is this life?
I used to sit on the grasses,
Look at the beautiful flowers,
Enjoy the breezes that once flew,
Follow the butterflies.
I never plucked a flower,
I never caught a butterfly,
For I loved them living,
And spreading wings,
And showering fragrances.
I knew,
I believed,
That all their beauty remained,
Until they lived.
Then why me?
Why was I followed?
And plucked?
And thrown,
And dumped?
Why me?
WHY ME?
I cry hysterically.
I sob and weep,
And shout and yell,
Until a needle is pierced,
On my arm and I,
Collapse.
Wounded.
Broken.
Like fragments,
Of a vase!
A beautiful vase,
A black vase!
A coffined vase.

 

Introvert (Drawing Love)

I failed to draw an image of love. And hence goes the poem…

For long I try in vain to create
A picture, a sketch of the feeling great
A feeling too subtle to be described
A feeling too immense to be inscribed
I tried so hard and tried so long
Only to realize that I was all wrong
Love is a feeling that can’t be drawn
It can just be felt and touched upon

I was so stupid to capture the formless
The mighty, immense; vast and endless
How could I capture the one containing all
The happy, the sad, the big and the small?
If hatred is a sketch, then love is the page
If hatred is a play, then love is the stage
If hatred is knife, then love is the sheath
Love is the sky with all emotions beneath

Love is the canvas on which you drew hatred
But it is all too large, unaltered and sacred
On this are drawn joys, smiles and fears
On this chuckles the child, on this flows tears

Love is the ocean, formless and immense
Containing feelings: jolly, dark, deep and intense…

 

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Original Poem by Randomly Abstract

The second part was added by me (Introvert)