I've recently been told
That music's for the bold
And performance represents
A simple flow of confidence

While I think that's good to know
I think there's more to music's glow
Cause when I put my pen to paper
I want me to be the shaper

I aspire to hone my craft
And not come off as over-daft
But my music is my art
Communication from the heart

And that calls consideration
Of musicians' motivation
Cause when you stand up on the stage
It's true the listener's the gauge

Of if your music is worthwhile
Or should be thrown into the pile
So overall it's just a balance
Of one's skill, but also talent

So at the ending of the day,
The final thing I'd like to say
is...

A is for Adam
Atoms are for art
I'll write like a free radical
But on stage I'll play the part

No, he's not pessimistic
It's just that he's accepted the reality
He has examined every single angle
But got the same result each time
The radius is not yet ready to form a cone
So, he has to cope with the circle only
He understands things very well
Hence, there's no point in being optimistic...

The tree would bloom only in the spring
So, it continues to wait for that season
Similarly, he's also waiting for the storm to pass by
And the clouds to rain down 
So that he can see the clear blue sky
Under which he'd again try to convince
The radius to give up its obstinacy
And to form the cylinder, if not the cone...

They talk for a new day
But the Sun has already extinguished
And he's lost in an unidentified darkness
Where the Moon is present
But doesn't accompany him at all...

And those twinkling Stars
Seems nothing more than his fading heart
Yet he's crawling along that dark path
In the little hope of a new Moon's ray
But he's unknown that a distance of 3,84,400 Km gapping them apart...

Again in that blank darkness
He sees some rays but this time Red
Unaware of the danger, he continues to step ahead...
They tell him to bridge the gap between him and the Moon
But he's burning down all of the Bridges
And thinks, he's going to build something new...

But it's just a thought, so, he decides to recall, all the things...
Before he prepares himself to see his own downfall..!

When I shifted here... 
far from my land
full of anxieties and a little fear, unknown...
Two cute baby pigeons
Right in a corner of my balcony 
Gave me that happiness I was craving for... I don't know, from when...
 
And those baby pigeons 
Unable to fly, were a little afraid 
Of that 17th floors' height 
Were so helpless the same as I 
And their helplessness forced them to share that space 
With a person who himself was shy 
 
And few days passed... 
I tried to give them that possible space needed
Spread the grains so that they could feed
And now we both were comfortable in each other's company
At least I thought so... Unless that day came... 
When they learned to explore the sky on own... 
 
Unknown of their new ability
I stormed in our space to see them 
They saw me coming... Saw the slide of the door
I was about to step in but they gave me the same reason to abhor
This selfish world and the game of "You Trust, I show (The colors)..." 
 
They flew and never came back... 
What they meant to me, they couldn't understand
And left me alone, again with my fear and anxieties
The same way, when once you pulled off your hand..!

How do I say I love you?
When everything is at stake
How can someone be true?
Knowing it could bring heartache
How to get rid of this fear?
Thinking rejection is on its way
How can I say I love you?
Not knowing if you would say it back

Things are not going in the right direction, nowadays
I wake up and begin to think a lot of things and end the day with the same thoughts 
I'm going through various phases these days that I don't know how to explain
And I don't want to express them either...
Happiness has been something that I can clearly see but can't feel 
I see people laughing and cheering around me, but that seems so artificial...

Now I abstain from being a part of those social groups
Where the use of the “F” word makes you cool and gives you a certificate for your confidence
But I don't blame them, Perhaps it's me only who lacks something
Something that makes me feel alienated in the crowd 
Every day I feel like a glass broken by several strokes of a hammer
But I collect myself again... just to witness the pain of those invisible scars...

Writing gives me peace of mind, but these days I avoid writing down the things
Not because I'm lacking inspiration or something, but I'm afraid
Afraid of the same words that used to heal me before but now haunt my peanut brain every now and then
The words I used to put life in are now attempting to shape my entire life...
I'm feeling like that caged bird who can't fly even after being freed 
Because she's got the false notion that she has no wings, perhaps the same notion I'm getting too.

A gourd
Hollowed.
to carry naught.
Naught but a small flame.

And only for a time.

She is hollow.
But her flesh
is plump
is vibrant
is fragrant

A carved pumpkin with a grinning facade.
Gutted.
Holding a single flame.

How long before the walls decay
And the flame is extinguished?