Sitting in my chair,  My life Is bland. The mental breakdown is near Then I saw the face of my son. Pillow between us for years, For once, she doesn't think about my needs But I should think about hers, As she's the one who every month b leeds. And I'm an husband, A man should be strong and shall not cry, Though I'm not planning to as my eyes went dry. Once there was love  When she used to call me dear, But now there is no trust, Only an agreement and fear, What will happen to them? So we are just left with blame. For me weekends were good But now those are unbearable, As she is always rude. Mon-Fri is also no good. I don’t blame her for anything though. Yes, she blames me, And in anger, I call her hoe. But not from my heart, As believe it or not I still love her. That’s why we are not apart.  Does she love me? Maybe, as she also bearing me. But I really don’t know. Once we both had dreams, I wanted a post of power, She wanted to become an actress These days we only bri

Grim Reaper


A frail body sitting in front of me,

In her dried eyes there's a craving of crying.

Her morbid face, facing the bed,

Which is dead soak from red droplets of sorrow.

A poignant scent is everywhere,

It's the scent of her melancholy,

Which the room has borrowed.

But in all her misery

There's a hint of smile,

Maybe it's a joy of winning,

When the bullet took her life.

Then she went on the journey

To reconcile with the eternal soul.

She adieu everybody,

To be happy evermore.


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