The semblence of sanity that I hold,
you call it insane.
The little humanity that I hold,
you call it barbarian.
The little hope that I hold,
you call it futile.
The little talents that I hold,
you call it mundane.
The little mind that I hold,
you call it pale.
The little love that I hold,
you call it vain.
The little life that I hold,
you call it dead.
The little me that I hold,
you call it profane.
9 comments:
Its the little things in life, that matter the most, they may be not much to you to care for, but they mean a world to me!
Nice one, once again :)
interesting!!
thanks...all credit to my insanity :P
hmmm...layers beneath layers in ur poetry, and within u as a person too..There's so much depth in here, so much more beyond these simple words..like just waiting to be explored!!and u call this is ur insanity...it all seems sane.ok now back to square one, what we might see as sane, u might call it insane!! different views, but the "same " person!!:) happy writing
thanks aakriti...surely i dint forsee such depth in those lines! well sometimes what the sane world calls insane is the sanity for few..!!
Amazing. One of the best read Ive had in recent past. Keep it up. Guess, you should try publishing it some where.
thanks nirmalya...dunno if i write that grt to publish anything..it jst crops up in moment of insanity!!
defines each part of u... perfectly. :)
nyc lines to represent a frustrated bt confused youth....who is wasting his talent inn vain......u should hv given him a hope too......touchin lines.....thnx fr it :)
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