she writes.

             Yesterday, she wondered if she could write.

Write all the blues of her life.

It was worth a try but the hands ,

fought back for their right.

All this time they had been compelled to write.

Made a drudge,

who could serve her right.

Was it assurance or something ,

beyond one's belief?

I guess it was agony,

that was never seen.

She was taught well,

she had a clever mind.

But , foolish she,

she could not make it out that time.

The torture is unsustainable,

dominating her life.

She's not heard anymore,

She was just a page,

scribbled all this time.

-mehar

                                            

Guilt.

 GUILT

I made a mistake,

but long did i know 

i was alone to blame.

The guilt fills inside me,

leaving a hole of agony.

The mistake bounds me,

streching it self in all beliefs.

It's a test i believe,

but i know it cannot weaken me.

A heart of pleasures it was,

A trust definite.

It has to start all over now,

with those glaring eyes.

The regret springs back at me

along with those flashbacks.

But i know as long as the faith's

within me,

I wont let anything pass.

mehar