Water drips in the distance,
The insects wiggle afar;
I lie here half-awake, yet self-aware.
He calously calls out to me,
'You're a fool!', he says;
I lie here in misery, yet numb to pain.
The wind chimes are silent,
The moon is eclipsed;
I lie here in darkness, yet there is light.
He again roars in my ears,
'She's a liar!', he says;
I lie here in disbelief, yet there is deceit.
The vultures knaw at the old flesh,
Thrown out when new skin is found;
I lie here naked, yet I do not feel ashamed.
He now whispers to me,
'No one cares about you', he says;
I lie here waiting, yet she does not come.
The voice seems familiar,
'Who could it be?', I ponder;
I lie here questioning myself, yet there is no answer.
Could it be a stranger?
Or someone close to me?
I lie here afraid, yet curiosity gets the best of me.
My limbs betray me,
As did my mind so long ago;
I lie here helpless, yet I long to see the stranger.
But then he lifts the curtain himself,
And I come face to face with him;
I lie here bewildered, yet I see a familiar face.
It is me, myself, I,
The stranger is me;
I lie here torn apart, yet I am whole.
The jeers continue,
And the taunts don't end;
I lie here listening, yet I wish I were deaf.
The stranger, or my other half,
Sits there with a smile;
I lie here hurting now, yet only for a while.
The vultures seem to be a better end,
For they knaw only at flesh;
I lie here with my soul violated, yet I have no choice.
For eternity, the stranger plagues me,
No one else understands his words;
I lie here without wings, yet the vultures fly away.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
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کاغز
ان کاغزوں کا کیا کروں تیرا نام جن پے لکھا تھا کورے رہے نا وہ، نا میں شائید ایسا ہی لکھا تھا
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