THE BROKEN SPELL

Broken and crushed I lie here in wait,

I'm tired of this suffering, the pain and sweat.

Roses aren't for me, I can picture a wreath,

I'm stifled now, its getting hard to breathe.

I'm tired of being this way, I cant even cry,

My screams are drowned, my tears are now dry.

I'm tired of their whines, their endless grudges,

I'll live my way, not on borrowed crutches.

I'm not a toy, or a blob of clay,

Then why should I bend their way?

They say I do not feel, they fail to see me bleed,

Trying to turn me into one of them, its just their greed.

I want to walk my way, find my own religion,

If I fall and fail, it'll be my own decision.

Let me walk to my grave, don't carry me there,

I want to kiss my death, not die in despair.

I have a million options, let me be the one to choose,

I'm not their hell hole, their object of abuse.

I see a distant light, the door is open,

I will be myself, the spell is now broken!

My First Love

Some love stories start with the rain bringing two lovers together throught the forces of nature locking them together in the warmth of a rain-soaked embrace, while some end in the rain with two lovers walking away, drenched in nature's fury. My love story however strange it may seem, IS the rain. Yes, I am in love with the rain and will make no two bones to admit that it is indeed my first love and will probably be that eternal love.

As a child, I often marvelled at the unbound bounty of the clouds and how they managed to soak the earth. I have memories of tricking my mom into believing that I'm only watching the rain while I would actually plot and plan to stealthily slip out into the backyard and stare at the sky till the raindrops hurt my eyes, hard enough to make me give up. Looking for icicles, putting them in my mouth and squirming my eyes with the freeze. Running helter-skelter in the rain to find shelter when I was out playing just a little too far from home. These are the small pleasures of my childhood, obviously bound and enveloped by the one thing that refused to change and grow up, The RAIN!

Today, the rain doesn't bring and wondrous amazement to my eyes as it did back then. Instead, it brings a twinkle to my eyes, a sparkle no other season could. Off-late I've also realised that the rain makes me think of love more than any other time. It is this downpour that makes my mind rewind to the dreams of a perfect love in my growing-up years.

Silly to some people maybe, but it still makes me wonder how insanely romantic it would be to take a walk through a garden holding hands, fighting the rain. Or even how great it must feel to just sit with someone I love out in the patio, sipping a cup of hot coffee tinged with the flavour of the rain. Or how perfect would it be to sit in a car with the top up at the edge of a cliff and feel like you were floating on the dark dense clouds.

Also, I feel that there's no fragrance ever made that could come even close to the scent of the first fresh raindrops on a lonesome, emaciated, blistering piece of earth. Arden and Estee could turn their researching centres upside down but no fragrance can ever appeal as much as the priceless yet invaluable scent of the first rain.

I see people shiver and run for cover when it rains. I still cannot fathom why! Perhaps, its just me to whom the cold rain manages to bring a warmth in each raindrop. Warmth of perhaps a love, from an unknown land. Or maybe from the skies above, from those who left me lookin up at the clouds for them.

Charlie Chaplin once said that he loved walking in the rain because then noone would see him cry. I personally haven't felt anything close to that and I don't think I ever can because it has been the rain that has given me enough reason to stop crying and smile to myself when life has been at its ebb.

That's the kind of love-story I have with the rain and that's why I call it my first love. A force that magically wraps itself around me when I want to cry. Someone who's voice is music to my ears and who's scent drives my senses wild. My childhood sweetheart, a warm flame on a cold night. Someone who's intricately bound in both my dreams and my memories. That is the kind of stuff true love is made of. I'm just glad to be a part of it, to be insanely in love with the one thing I know that neither time, nor death, nor the past, nor any other force can conquer, the love of my life, The RAIN.

Some love stories start with the rain bringing two lovers together throught the forces of nature locking them together in the warmth of a rain-soaked embrace, while some end in the rain with two lovers walking away, drenched in nature's fury. My love story however strange it may seem, IS the rain. Yes, I am in love with the rain and will make no two bones to admit that it is indeed my first love and will probably be that eternal love.

As a child, I often marvelled at the unbound bounty of the clouds and how they managed to soak the earth. I have memories of tricking my mom into believing that I'm only watching the rain while I would actually plot and plan to stealthily slip out into the backyard and stare at the sky till the raindrops hurt my eyes, hard enough to make me give up. Looking for icicles, putting them in my mouth and squirming my eyes with the freeze. Running helter-skelter in the rain to find shelter when I was out playing just a little too far from home. These are the small pleasures of my childhood, obviously bound and enveloped by the one thing that refused to change and grow up, The RAIN!

Today, the rain doesn't bring and wondrous amazement to my eyes as it did back then. Instead, it brings a twinkle to my eyes, a sparkle no other season could. Off-late I've also realised that the rain makes me think of love more than any other time. It is this downpour that makes my mind rewind to the dreams of a perfect love in my growing-up years.

Silly to some people maybe, but it still makes me wonder how insanely romantic it would be to take a walk through a garden holding hands, fighting the rain. Or even how great it must feel to just sit with someone I love out in the patio, sipping a cup of hot coffee tinged with the flavour of the rain. Or how perfect would it be to sit in a car with the top up at the edge of a cliff and feel like you were floating on the dark dense clouds.

Also, I feel that there's no fragrance ever made that could come even close to the scent of the first fresh raindrops on a lonesome, emaciated, blistering piece of earth. Arden and Estee could turn their researching centres upside down but no fragrance can ever appeal as much as the priceless yet invaluable scent of the first rain.

I see people shiver and run for cover when it rains. I still cannot fathom why! Perhaps, its just me to whom the cold rain manages to bring a warmth in each raindrop. Warmth of perhaps a love, from an unknown land. Or maybe from the skies above, from those who left me lookin up at the clouds for them.

Charlie Chaplin once said that he loved walking in the rain because then noone would see him cry. I personally haven't felt anything close to that and I don't think I ever can because it has been the rain that has given me enough reason to stop crying and smile to myself when life has been at its ebb.

That's the kind of love-story I have with the rain and that's why I call it my first love. A force that magically wraps itself around me when I want to cry. Someone who's voice is music to my ears and who's scent drives my senses wild. My childhood sweetheart, a warm flame on a cold night. Someone who's intricately bound in both my dreams and my memories. That is the kind of stuff true love is made of. I'm just glad to be a part of it, to be insanely in love with the one thing I know that neither time, nor death, nor the past, nor any other force can conquer, the love of my life, The RAIN.