I looked into the mirror again 

And I liked what I saw 

The flip side is always more alluring… 

Lost in its gaze, 

I saw myself with you, darling 

And we were together, yes… 

I never took as long to say hi, you know 

It happened much faster here 

It’s better over here, anyway… 

I asked you for a pen 

You gave one to me with a shy smile, 

I gave it back with a shyer one… 

We got closer to each other, 

Faster than the trees grow 

And the flowers bloom… 

How mad we were for each other was silly 

But in a world full of madmen, 

We were even madder… 

I gave you my heart 

And you never chose to break it 

And I never broke yours… 

We lay cradled in each other’s arms 

And we finally figured for ourselves, 

That love was no delusion… 

But damn the flip side! 

In truth, my heart beats without reason 

And I’m freezing outside 

In the absence of your warmth 

And for the delusion that love is, 

All I have is your shadow 

That disappears in the darkness… 

X-x-X

The bars have been stained

With sweat from my palms

The morbid screams seem distant

To my ears now;

And I've gotten used to the horrifying gaze

Of the ones that roam outside

But once in a while it still terrifies me...

The world around me has grown

Still; motionless, except an 

Occasional visitor walking with steps

That fall louder than thunder strikes

The trees on a stormy night

And another hit on the head

Of someone who chose to speak

The walls around me, all four of them

Are now the color of tears

But they too, like the blood

On our wounds, have dried up

And reveal only a fragment

Of what they used to be...

Be good!, they order me

And I do as they say

But they still throw the food

At me, like I don't deserve it

And I hog at it like the hungry dog 

I am...

'Cause you see, I've been a dreamer

And this is what they do

To those who dare to dream;

They put us behind bars

And forget, that four walls 

Will never be enough

To contain us...

X-x-X

As red as a plum,

She tastes like a cherry

Glows like a tomato

Reminds me of a strawberry

Dipped in chocolate...

Sweeter than sugar cubes

Melting in coffee

More feel-good than a

Handful of psychedelic toffees

In my mouth...

Slower than the creepy crawlies

Feeding on a leaf

Yet craftier and swifter

Than a disguised thief

On his job...

More dangerous than a 

Man with a golden gun,

Stealthier than a deranged

Killer on the run

From the dawn...

And at her feet, 

A Rubik's cube takes the fall

The men just might cringe

But she stands tall

Like a tree...

Many do not believe

But the lone cat had wept,

And in grief and distraught,

She'd thought hard then slept

Like the dead...

Over look the depth with wine and rum

Doesn't she look as red as a plum?

X-x-X

  X-x-X

I got kicked out of science and was thrown into commerce later, but that's a different issue altogether. One of my good friends in the humanities stream once told me that I was an ignorant, disrespectful prick. I should've thanked her for the tip, because over the years I discovered that I was arrogant, self-obsessed and self-centered in addition to being eccentric. And oh, thankless too.

Anyway, right around the end of the tenth grade, I'd gotten really excited because I realized I wouldn't have to study social studies for the rest of my life. But at that point, the final exams weren't yet taken care of, so I had to study social studies one last time. "It's the last social studies test you'll ever take," one of my more bothered friends had said to me, "Why not give it the respect it deserves?" And to that I said, "It's the last test right? Why care about it at all?" Proudly at that.

Social studies had never been my forte, and we had 12 elaborate chapters in our syllabus. That meant endless hours in a room isolated from the rest of the world. My mom used to check in on me pretty often while I was studying, and she learnt it the hard way, why it wasn't such a great idea to allow her teenage son to study with an mp3 player in his vicinity. Based on what I was told by my mother, regarding her experiences of checking in, I was either:

a)Sleeping with the lights on - That meant I was either too lazy to switch the light off or that I was too exhausted after my attempts to study a subject that I felt was too dull and boring. I think it was the latter, because the switch was right next to my bed.

b)Sleeping with the light off - That meant I didn't care enough about studying at that time and I had an adequate amount of energy required to switch the light off. Of course, the energy I wasted by doing that I regained by sleeping.

c)Head-banging to music (position of light switch unknown) - That meant.. wait, what did that mean? I guess it meant...

Hard Rock/Punk Rock/Psychedelic Rock > Igneous Rock/Metamorphic Rock/Sedimentary Rock

Come to think of it, my mother even probably cursed herself for buying a bed.

X-x-X

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author honestly wishes none of whatever he's written ever happens to him. The views expressed are solely of the author. He would undoubtedly regret it if he has wound up hurting the feelings of any humanities students and would really appreciate it if they put down their katanas and bazookas and call off the murderers hired to kill him. And if they didn't have any such plans in the first place, he's even more thankful. 

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton Season 2 edition 18; the eighteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

  "So... eleventh, huh?" 
  "Yeah."
  "And science too, eh?" 
  "Yep."


   It was another one of our nightly conversations. The last one before eleventh grade kicked in; and the last one we'd be able to have overlooking the colossal guilt of wasting time. 
   We never really talked about anything meaningful. And maybe that's why I was going to miss talking to her, in the swirling wave of change that was to take over my life in the following months.


  "So you're really going to study for five hours a day?"
  "I don't know. I'll try."
  "And we won't be meeting anymore would we?"
  "I hope we do. It's ten hours on weekends..."


   Now everyone knows change is inevitable. And for a teenager, most of it happens during the tenth grade and afterwards. It's not as if nothing changes in the previous years; it's just that the magnitude of change is much greater then.
   The student either takes charge of the situation and starts acting responsibly, or he just loses it all and ends up in a hopeless vortex of nothingness.
   And while I was almost sure I'd be able to make it through, a part of me still flinched on the mention of taking responsibility for my acts. I was a teenager, right? What do teenagers do but waste time and do crazy things?
  
   "So we won't hang out after class then, I guess..."
   "Yeah. I mean no, we won't. For one, I'm not even going there."
   "After class will be sad without you."
   "Mine would be too."
  
   We went to the same tuition center. And while I was a tad more serious than her and a great deal more as a student, the amount of fun we had in and after our class was as great for me as it was for her.
   And now I was moving on to more serious things. I was wanting to take charge.
   And whether or not I'd be successful was not known to me. Yet.


   "I don't want to grow up, man."
   "I don't want to either. But we all have to."
   "So we'll all grow up someday?"
   "Yeah. I guess."
    
   Growing up is a big deal. 
   Growing up is like the elder brother of change.
   When we grow up, we set our priorities right. We change them. 
   We change our outlook.
   Things change. Things that matter do, and so do things that never mattered.
   Feelings change. People change.
   We change.
   And we learn to move on. Most of us.
   
   "So things will change, right?"
   "Yeah."


    And we were to brace ourselves.
   

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

A different shade than I see..

You say outside, the grass is green

Greener than it is to me...

You say there is hope, yes you do

But I cease to see any...

You say there are things that matter,

But I don't seem to find many...

The world is filled with different colors,

From blue to green and red, you say...

So I take a good look outside

And it still appears black, white and grey...

But it's all relative, I've learnt

Why don't you just let your truth be?

You're nothing more than a liar...

A liar to me.

X-x-X

Jamie had a girlfriend when he was 14.
She was all he could think of.
He was all hers.

Day after day they spent time together
Using each other as an excuse
To be silly, to live, to love

And he dared to love while she held back.
And it all happened without his consent,
But she... she knew it well

It was their time and they felt it in their hearts
They did what they wanted to
And as they pleased...

And their innocent infatuation came to an end
Just like a calendar year
And she left him

Jamie was 15 - a year older and wiser
But he was heart broken
And his pain resounded inside

She had moved on well ahead of him
And she had her priorities right,
While she was his only one...

He'd lost himself in her eyes, Jamie had
And she'd shut 'em tight now,
And he was lost again

She moved out to another town in a while
And all he got was a resentful look
But she was to remain forever in his heart...

And in a fit of rage, he got his cutter from the drawer
And carved her name on his hand
The part of her that was inside of him, was now spelled across his forearm

On Jamie's hand...

He'd cried and he'd wept and he had regretted
But his wounds remained as they were,
As time was to heal everything...

'Cause she'd died in a month or two
And when she had, he hadn't cared
But she lived on, in his wounds...

On Jamie's hand...