Behind The Fringe


Behind the fringe I flip the pages of my eyelashes.
Old paint is chipped off as mascara flows across my cheek.
The funeral of desires left behind ashes.
And I was labelled by the crowd as a freak.

The voices in my head walked away once.
So, I walk in their search on the noisy shopping street.
The shocking pink I wear shouts that I am not like you.
With the swivel of my waist the heels hurt my feet.
As I dig the nails painted black in my fist.
the sight of blood makes me weak..

In the blaring noise I dance away the night.
The noises of the discotheque never fall asleep.
Had set out to differ but all seem the same around me.
Am I everyone whom you meet ?

Am I what I seem Am I a mask that even you hide behind ?
Am I a mere commodity in the shopping street that I have put up on display ?
Am I bitterchoclate or am I truly sweet ?
Or am I a small wish that wants to be fulfilled no longer weep ?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spin It

Image
                                                                     Spin spin spin I spin my web.. Snip snip snip I snip every old thread.. You spin I spin that is all we do. I am hanging where you once hung, This patch is mine now, now I sew. You snipped my mesh one day and craft your own wall. I am a spinner and you are one No sins, we merely cushion our fall. Why shall I remain trapped in my world and you in yours. Let us spin a web together  and trap everyone in ours. Why not bring all under one roof neither yours, nor mine, ally. Under one sky, as the earth continues to spin Let us spin for everyone, a whole new sky.
Read more

Abandoned: End of a beginning?

Image
Innumerable questions pound the walls of our mind. Words in our poem no longer rhyme. Why no one wants to take us home or considers us as their own? Why no one lends a loving hand and lets us suffer on the barren land? We seek neither a roof, nor a stack of grain  Merely the sunshine of care in the season of rain. As a desperate knock interrupts my thoughts, I roll down the glass to be greeted by imploring eyes of a poor child. My heart goes out to her but I cannot help wondering if she has chosen this path out of need or has been forced to do so. I hand her a penny and drive away as the signal turns green. We can reflect upon the condition of the underprivileged children clad in rags or pass our judgement about the misfortune but is that what we call a solution? Gaiety of the childhood has wandered off as the bereaved are left behind to search for remnants on the crowded streets. I had once come across a poor child who was hurrying off from one vehicle to t
Read more

Mother-child relationship does go a longer way than thought of

Image
The umbilical cord supplies the foetus with oxygenated, nutrient-rich blood. Once it is cut off, the infant still remains attached to the mother. All thanks to oxytocins — the mammalian hormone often called the love hormone. There is something about science that makes it often talked about. Emotions do not arise from the heart as we all are told at an early age; they are developed in the brain and through its patterns. It is not news that the parent-child relationship affects the other associations that the child is likely to form at later stages of his or her life. But a new study by psychologist Jeffry A. Simpson, the author, with University of Minnesota colleagues W. Andrew Collins and Jessica E. Salvatore shows that your interpersonal experiences with your mother in particular during the first 12 to 18 months of your life as an infant predicts your behaviour in romantic alliances 20 years later. Before one is aware of the thought process and the language to describe
Read more