Outcastes

I all alone beweep my outcast state

And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries-Shakespeare

Few days back an old friend of mine called me up. We lost connection long back but somehow she got my number. We talked a couple of minutes and decided to meet-up. There's a thing about old friends you can just dump all your F^*k n S*%t and feel light. Damn she was in bad state and the moment I saw her I knew that something was wrong, Long story short, she was living a life of an outcast in her own house and that made me think ............ that   

Do we need to be on an uninhabited island or in some scary jungle or jail to feel like an outcast ??

Nah, rather you can get that feeling sitting in your own room and I guess that feeling is more awful than the previous ones. Damned in your own heaven, among  your own people... who says you need to die to go to Hell... Hell is right here and you are burning right there in that corner and there's nothing you can do about it.

It's like people around you talking in some ancient language. Like they all share a past, a past with no mark of you. For them you are something of a queer type and all that comes out of your mouth is nothing but fiddle-faddle of your own making. There's no way you can convince them and no way they see what you see. Bounded by the chains of colored judgments their minds are clouded and blocked and you are pinned down, secluded in your mind you are there but not around. But, you hope for things to change and smetimes they do

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Mortals around her wonder

how can she ever feel like

some burning wood

in a middle of a room

others feeling warm

but she's aflamed, feeling

not worth a darn

pent up emotions

looking for a leak

to breathe some air

not to cease and appease

people talking, walking

snooping all around in

slow-motion and silent sounds

Clock ticks in her room

she peers back at it

move fast you prick, she raves

little bird in her wanna go out

she hopes to imbibe the talents

people outside have, she flew

but her clipped wings gave out

She's waiting for a morning

when sun will rise like never before

in bits n pieces she is garnering

gallant and galore

she's too tough for that clipped bird

in her heart, she's recuperating

every minute, every hour

Did you ever felt like an outcast ??

I did, many times... 

I am the outcast come home to roost and the eggs of tomorrow are incubating in my fame. You hate me, you love me, you made me, and now I am in you. I am like that disease brewing in your loins and I think you like it…” 

― Nikki Sixx

Curious Thing

We all have tendency to get accustomed to things happening around very easily. Routine, job, moods, environment and what not. Somehow we are able to cope with oddities of everyday life and get on. So many people come and go in our life, each one adding a layer of different color and size. There are few who become much closer as compared to others. They succeed in breaching the walls of the fortress of strong personality we project to the outside world. With them we are nothing but ourselves, vulnerable but happy. We share our world with them and somewhere deep down unknowingly expect that we are an important part of their world too. But, the curious thing is despite all this friendliness and comfort 

we never actually get accustomed to being less important to those people than they are to us.

Image Credit: http://www.hoviscreations.com/Paintings/Painting82.jpg

Hysteria was clogging up my mind

curious thing, I wasn't supposed

to be feeling like this

still, strands of my hair were flying 

like stale threads of a ripped jeans

I tried and remain calm, wasn't easy 

by all means..

stinging with my own agony 

I gave a second thought to 

what she just said, sighed 

I closed my ablated eyes , although 

she did what she thought was right 

but, why I'm not feeling alright ?

I waited for long 

hoped she'll ping me back 

say something and I'll respond

that never happened and

le problème, at last I said 

life's a never ending parade 

of same notions

I gotta buck up 

and shed such emotions 

no one's obliged to give me 

exact replica of  what I want 

people are  just amis amants 

Now I remember what Lupe Fiasco sings 

Alright, already, the show goes on

All night 'til the morning, we dream so long

Anybody ever wonder when they would see the sun go

Just remember when you come up, the show goes on

Fit right in

It's funny how humans can wrap their mind around things and fit them into their version of reality.

~Rick Riordan

I don't know if I'd fit right in

there's this spot that's missing

I look out to see, people hanging out in their cliques

talking in codes, walking in a pattern round and round

they keep on doing that, and I feel like

I'm just an alien, peeking in form outside

trying to make out the contours, on a recon mission

checking whether I'd fit right in

we exist, all together on same plane

but, there's this rift that separates us

I keep going back to thinking "what's missing"

I guess we'll never know

in the midst of webs of complexity from

which human mind is made

it's like you take a shovel to dig deep

but how deep is the fact that's missing

That conscious thought of enormous void

you feel, you tried hard to fill

so many times with so many tools

from where it came and how far it goes

you seem them busy in their work

while you are lost in your own

and before you can realize eons are gone

Rift is still there

and I guess it'll always be

it's better if you fit right in

and it'll do fine if you don't

as people are those jigsaw puzzles

where some pieces are always missing