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Not In Straight Line

*pic courtesy - painting taken from pinterest. I am telling you I am not perfect My bed is messed up all day long I have been said I am nothing but wrong My voice cracks open a tragic song My closet has clothes that don't fit me There are times when even my dog doesn't sit with me I am telling you Life is not supposed to be.. What you want to see.. I have been thrown out, shouted at, made fun of,  everytime I want to change and be free.. I have been called arrogant, stupid, mad, with ideas that shatter... I discovered things that no one in the room thought but only if it could matter.. I am telling you That people aren't perfect and nor they will ever be... If you wait for them to align You will be the one being struck out of line Don't think every criticism is fine Some are horrific with absurd design So what if I am not perfect I can tell that imperfection is abstract Breaking the rules is not nodding to solicitations I have tried, failed, then tried back ...

Religion

Jumping on toes..
As I ring the bells..
Stood at the door..
With folded hands..
Eyes on my deity.
For in the temples.
She dwells..
Smelling the fresh..
Flowers..
With a tinge of firewood..
Vermilion mesh..
On my forehead..
Colored red.
Carvings in stone..
Said artistic stories alone..
Where souls..
Found peace.
When moments cease..
We steal puddings..
Getting into..
Gruesome fight.
Yet the essence of delight..
In the end..
It wasn’t worth ones plight.
A smiling beggar..
Hugging her baby tight.
The floor seems frivolous..
With devotees hurdled in tonight.
Seeking hideouts..
We utter play outs..
Hymns chanted..
Getting louder shout spouts.
Running into every corner..
To explore..
There’s worship behind every door.
The crowd multiplies..
Pride denies..
With subtle cries.
Kneeling down..
Touching the floor with their head.
Many hearts bled..
As they remember the days of dread.
Under every hood..
As we close our eyes..
The religion which binds us all..
Is Childhood.

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