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An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Can I

Can I quit ..
Or Can I run.
Can I conflict..
Just for fun.
Done taking the short cuts..
Even long routes don’t bother.
It’s the crowd that smothers.
Don’t want to keep lying..
As truth is undesirable.
Don’t want to try..
Not anymore.
Let’s just make it worth the sigh some more.
For Fate is imaginary..
People are tertiary.
Thoughts make them scary..
What awaits you is death..
That’s the light on the other side of the tunnel.
What’s important is touch..
What needs to be read are the eyes.
Don’t trust words..
They are just fillers.
Making up for the emptiness..
Worse is the hands..
That hold to leave whenever.
Cause you are meant to realize..
This life is forever.

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