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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 ...

Empty Basket

All she had was an empty basket..
She could fill it with stones..
Or fill it with bones..
But she wanted to fill it with ..
All the thing that she owns .
Looking up to the stars..
And then her empty basket.
Stood falling all over..
From an empty casket.
Voices traveling through thin air.
She could feel the chilly tear.
And then as a thread crumpled from her dress.
Through the winds she tread for a bread in her basket.
There were few crumbs..
As she closely brushed with her thumb.
Her skin went thin..
While tasting curry dripping up to her chin.
Dreaming was she with open eyes..
Probably her face would now chase away flies.
Laughing as she walked past a glass door..
A girl licked an ice cream which she couldn’t ignore.
She did have a half bread from an apple store..
Tugged it out did someone just shout her name.
Whoever it was she wished for a family to claim.
From the ice cream store marched the girl..
All over the sidewalk an essence did twirl.
Stopped while peeping at her basket..
She ate her bread and smiled as she hid it away.
*dedicated to the little ones who go hungry to bed , life is all but a struggle for the tiniest bread.

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