Diddling around, conjuring riddles.

What's full yet half but always torn apart?

What's crazy yet lazy but tromping through a bed of daisies?

What's devoured whole but not showered with hope?

What's falling through the stars but never collects as dust?

The answer is Love.
Unfathomable Love.

Death has no velocity. It's the stillness that dissolves you and nibbles at your gut. I need to get out of this rut.

(Inspired by Jenny's words in the Manatee episode of TLW.) 


I marvel at the beauty of nature and the oddity of its creatures.

A manatee's movements, its lips, its tongue- communicates the secrets we've forgotten to search.

The soaring birds reflect my desires.
They tease and dive into my quarry of fire.

Lamenting over the days forgone,
I slip into the holes excavated by mammoths.
-Visible in light even after eons of dawn.

I must not refrain from speaking to those in disdain,
I can hear the monkeys pogoing away their miseries and pain.

Swimming to the edge of careful sycophancy,
are huddled up felines, in all of their vanity.

This tryst with bounty,
an affair of a lifetime,
is wearing me out,
forevermore, these days.

The beauty that shone from the Creator's cornerstone,
reflected subtlety that arose wonder in our hearts.
The vulgarity now, can't penetrate even the skin of a dying leper who hasn't the will to start.
For tonight, I will dissolve into a mass of trite.
See a world without amazement, reflecting in the sky's eyes.

16/2/2013 - 17/2/2013

The day contracted its limits. The sky tilted. Clouds turned black and scudded. Wind sent me mad with indoorness.

Sum Of Her Parts

(A piece inspired by Jenny's book title in TLW)

Her tongue,
it's a serpent's instrument.

It's the chord that binds us to our misery,
Through words that slither and leave our entity.

Seeping through the trenches of her eyes,
Flows the fluid that proclaims her the beholder of Messiah, the progeny of the divine.

In the sanctity of her warm bosoms,
Rests the origin of lust; the beginning of heaven and earth.

Show me a more dear enticement of procreation that has suffered this much,
yet striven in times such as thus,
And I'll show you my scars as they are, without hiding them beneath tars.

17/2/13

You tease me. You invite me to stare shamelessly at your pale skin. I sense perfectly red blood coursing through your veins. Your puckered lips are but a part of an elaborate scheme. Winning victims through love is a fulfilling prophecy, and I, its mean. The synchrony of your movements engages my naked eyes. I swivel at my spot for a moment too long. The reason, by now, apparent to everyone you've sought. Use your blood to Paint. Keep painting until you faint. Keep painting until you die.

It's difficult to stand by your convictions. What starts in chaos, ends in chaos.

What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness.

What was God really testing?

Adam (A clever reworking of the Garden of Eden myth):

Oh to lie upon her
Her nakedness is all
I simply orchestrated
That horizontal fall
And had no wrong intentions
And cared about no tree
I simply lay with her
And she with me

It is all Chinese whispers
It all gets told askew
I simply kissed the lips
That kissed the apple dew

It is believed that God placed a tree in the garden which he prohibited Adam and Eve to eat from. However, a serpent tricked them into eating from it, and they were subsequently expelled from the garden for disobeying God, who visits upon them and their progeny numerous hardships as punishment.

Could Adam have blamed Eve, just like today's man blames his woman for his own faults?
Could that have been the real test which he failed and the reason behind the misery that was brought upon both of them?
What was God really testing? 

Sources:
Poem- 'Adam' by Luke Davies
Excerpt-'It is believed..Punishment.' from Wikipedia

Own thoughts Italicised.

Love her story.

Watch "Jewel - Hands (Live Acoustic)" on YouTube

This, remember this.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/32-signs-youre-dating-a-keeper/

A find.

http://www.common-place.org/interim/poetry/legault.shtml

No Means No, No Matter Who Says It | Thought Catalog

No Means No, No Matter Who Says It | Thought Catalog

A Twenty Something Nothing: Thank Your Ex

An article by DANIELLE CAMPOAMOR 

(Thanks for putting almost exactly what I feel into words woven together like this.)

A Twenty Something Nothing: Thank Your Ex: I've come to realize, rather recently, that females are pretty hard on their exes. Yes. Yes. Even yours truly. And such unabashed rage a...

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Came across this in an article.

Must read these lines frequently.

Here’s the problem with taking yourself too seriously: every experience you have can potentially jeopardize your self-importance. When your self-importance is jeopardized you become defensive, and then eventually stop doing whatever it was you were trying to get good at.

Reel Guilty.

How do you escape from tough situations?

By escaping into the world of sitcoms.
Before you know it, the situation is even worse and there are no more escape routes left.

You've got to pull yourself out of their world and back into your own world, made heavier with the weight of the unsolved problems.

Along the way, as you savoured in the comfort brought to you by the visual world of stories, you weave your own stories to your loved ones to keep them at bay from knowing what you're really upto. Absolutely nothing.

Liar, liar, your own life's on fire.

If this song doesn't avert a break-up, I don't know what will.

Bono, you know.

All the self initiated Social Media Blockings couldn't keep me from wanting to see a glimpse of his life.
I took to Google search after U2 pointed out how he was even better than the real thing. Oh yes.

Now considering how Google search hardly ever gives the right results when it comes to ordinary people, my heavy heart was prepared to see results that wouldn't take me to him.

U2 is magical.

There he was. The 1st result.
Carrying the title of Event Head alongside the mobile number so deeply carved inside my memory, I wondered how it managed to invoke the next emotion- Surprise.

Surprise followed by sheer joy.
I was happy. I was elated.
I am, still.

To see him succeed in his life makes me tremendously happy.

To be honest, I felt relieved after my facial muscles relaxed in a few minutes.
But the relief had nothing to do with the relaxation of the foolish smile (which was still present, faintly.)

I realised, it's a step. A positive step.
Maybe I'm not so horrible.

My heart is where it's always been.

If only one more time.

Hope is despair in disguise.

I've always been at loggerheads over the idea of hope.
I've tried to embrace it at times and I've shirked it off my shoulder at other instances.

To believe in the contrary, to let your feelings take over to give you a sense of control over the unknown, to coax yourself with the thought of that shining bright light waiting at the end of the dark tunnel you've been trodding on- Is it really necessary to get you through the hard times?

Come to think of it, hope is despair in disguise.

Our fixation with positivity leads us down the road of misconstruing our own thoughts and sugar coating the bitter truths with one too many spoonful of diabetic hope.

It soon turns into a habit. A disease. A coping mechanism with a faulty foundation.

Hope. Belief. Are they the words that get you through the day?

I'd say, be a realist, take the beating, acknowledge the faults, get up and carry yourself forward.
But please don't hope for the best.
Don't let yourself be disillusioned by its sweetness.

Don't forget the bad times. Don't forget the good times. Take it all in.

Just don't raise your own expectations by believing and rooting for the next thing that comes your way to be a cakewalk through Candyland.

Let's not, for once, hope for the best.
What's the point in getting your spirits down?

Let's just be.

A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.
-Charles Bukowski

A song that one can never forget.
Lyrics that quench my heart's long debt.


Dropping through sky
Through the glass of the roof
Through the roof of your mouth
Through the mouth of your eye
Through the eye of the needle
It's easier for me to get closer to heaven
Than ever feel whole again.

remember how it used to be
when the stars would fill the sky
remember how we used to dream
those nights would never end
those nights would never end

it was the sweetness of your skin
it was the hope of all we might have been
that fills me with the hope to wish
impossible things

but now the sun shines cold
and all the sky is grey
the stars are dimmed by clouds and tears
and all i wish
is gone away
all i wish
is gone away

all i wish
is gone away

Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer: Yes, losing your heart's desire is tragic. But gaining your heart's desire? That's all you can hope for. This year I wished for love... to immerse myself in someone else and to wake a heart long afraid to feel. My wish was granted. And if having that is tragic, then give me tragedy. Because I wouldn't give it back for the world.

Words, video and melody.
As good as it can get.

The trees trick you 'cause they're always standing still.

If time was really racing by

You could see it when you drive.

Burglebushelgrimeresque

Error error error.
Skeletal skeletal pleasure.
Error eskimo drop.
Skeletal monks fought.

Error error error.
Skeletal skeletal pleasure.

Discovery of the Pataphor

Non-figurative:

Tom and Alice stood side by side in the lunch line.

Metaphor

Tom and Alice stood side by side in the lunch line; two pieces positioned on a chessboard.

Pataphor

Tom took a step closer to Alice and made a date for Friday night, checkmating. Rudy was furious at losing to Margaret so easily and dumped the board on the rose-colored quilt, stomping downstairs.

Is true love just once in a lifetime?

I think 'Keeping up with the Kardashians' came from 'Keeping up with the Joneses'.
It's a weird discovery when Edith Wharton's wiki page takes you there.

A thought:
The perfect gift for guys you want to put in the friend zone: The Hannibal Lecter Mask.

She keeps it all to herself.
Afraid,
that a word lost,
Would crumble the metrics,
that lead to resolution.

The silent turbulent resolution,
which will embed itself,
to fill this newer void of old faces,
that didn't play life fair.

That's the opine,
she's still deliberating in her onerous state.

She hasn't felt the hands of distressed loneliness embrace her this dearly,
since the day she first met her.

The faint memory of those days,
is repeatable.
Unrepeatable,
are those days.

She has known since then,
the wisdom, insight and growth gained,
Is priceless in comparison to the sleepless nights faced.

Just this moment,
She remembers true pain.
Someone she knows,
Can't run from its gaze.

He's been through troubles,
Unfair to the nature of this man,
his deeds claimed.

Yet he's going to lose his father,
In a day.
Time is ruthless,
No one is spared.

Here I begin to realise the frivolity of my woes.
My pain will subside.
His will only feign.

The difference between our wounds,
Makes itself appear.
Mine will bow down to time.
But his will only refract the despair and anger,
accompanying his tonsure.

Came across this on a website and it resonated my thoughts exactly. 



In this life I'm a woman.

In my next life, I'd like to come back as a bear. When you're a bear, you get to hibernate.
You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that. Before you hibernate, you're supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too.

When you're a girl bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you're sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute cuddly cubs. I could definitely deal with that.

If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that.

If you're a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling. He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

Yup... gonna be a bear.

Pinned.

Strangers, I don't see anymore.

Sunshine, hides from my woes.

Turn. Twist. Can't zip it no more.
A dull moan echoes my sore.

They come. They care. They swallow the ghosts.

Bad dreams dancing on my tongue.
Tired and awake.
Doing things that numb my brain.

Running on the inside, falling outside.

They say it's over.
Brighter times await me at the nearing horizon.

Believe, I do.
De dum tu do.

Darkness seeps its way inside,
Turmoil stirs up his insides.
Conveniently he evades the questions,
The ones his mind screech to him.
Rage and fear have befriended his soul.
Meanings are perceived and deceptions untold.
Left is all, that once was nothing.

Movement of bright light make his eyes cringe.
Voice of reason, he never gives in.
Resplendent are the thoughts that make him forget
of pain, mercy and help.
His jaw tightens on hearing laughter.
Joy is empty and love, false.
Left is all, that once was nothing.

Giving in.

I see myself slip into desolation.
I react, I rebel,
I realise, I was silent all along.

I rave in front of the mirror,
Hoping it would submit to my discontent.
But all it shows me is a muzzy face,
whispering words that I don't speak.

I fall deeper, I resist less.

I start a search, I stop.
I egress.

Ѱesting Deep Waters of Love

Preface to the following poem:
I was flipping through pages of my Psychological Testing textbook and was amused by the ability of the author to present real life events in terms of variables and quantities which he felt made sense after psychologists had done so.
I thought I'd try that on myself and penned my thoughts down in an attempt to make sense out of what seemed incoherent at the time.
(Simply to realise later on that I had only succeeded in putting those thoughts in a more complicated manner! )

Here it goes:

What is it that you're questioning?
Is it the validity of my feelings for you?
Or the norms I've set to be able to call it love?

Do you believe in the reliability of oral response?
Or is it my deception technique that you're really testing?

Somewhere along the scale I set for you, a discrepancy within the scores has arisen.
Do I look for the causal agents?
Or should I simply regard it as an insignificant error?

True, my sample for love has not been large & the norms I've set could do with a revision.

But honey, if you're doubtful about the reliability of 'us' lasting forever,
Then your future is doomed,
As there are no true predictors when it comes to love!

Today, I rekindled the dying flame inside of me.

I was feeling really low since the evening as i began to miss him,cried and blogged a short poem on that.
(Note to self : Catharsis doesn't really help.)
My hormonal fluctuation of the month joined in the party and started playing an evil joke on me by not  letting me come out of the sepia like mode I was in.

My assignments due for tomorrow have ended up being the collateral damage of this hormonal flood situation.

Meg happened to be going through an all time low as well.

Facebook chat soon turned into our venting platform.

She wrote more than i did. Well, cause she did have more worries and reasons to be in a state of  frusadion (frustration-sadness-confusion).

I was just there for her, writing what I felt needed to be written.

She bid me goodbye but soon added(in her own way) that I had made her feel better.

Strangely, i was not feeling down and about any longer.

I guess counselling is sort of like helping a friend.

Helping others is an antidote to help you overcome your own sadness.
That's the way i'm built.
I don't question it anymore.
I feel deeply for those who suffer injustice. I cry when i see sad documentaries or even short films about the sufferings borne by people in this world.
And I keep on racking my brains over projects that could help others in future or in present time.

But, i had stopped believing in change somewhere along the line.
I had started to focus so much on the problems that it had begun to feel like coming up with solutions would still not suffice.

Self belief is a tricky thing.

New day and unfinished assignments, hello-goodbye.

They tell us to go where love is.

But the way has closed down on me.

Since the day you left,
I've been waiting for the stars to fall,
Cause you were the light in my darkness.

I wake up in the middle of the night,
I realise, my someone is gone.
You're gone.

They say move on.
There is a world waiting.
Little do they know that I only see the crumbles of the World we had built together.

We said, forever.
But, you're gone.

If I Could

If I could resurrect my faith,
then I would deny my dreams.

If I could wipe away my tears,
then i would watch you leave me again.

If I could wrap you in my love,
then i would give away my home.

If i could seep through your mind,
then I would wish for you to never forget me.

If i could pawn my soul for your safety,
then I would never want it back.

If i could become a pariah so that you'd be accepted,
then I would do it for all my lifetimes..for eternity.

If I could see the latent lesion that made you drift away from me,
then I would let myself merge with those forgotten.

If I could heal the mark of uncertainty,
then i would worship God.

Media has a Profound Influence on the Human Psyche

My mother, who’s a gynaecologist, recently came across a patient who complained of severe kicking by the fetus in her womb. Perplexed, as all investigations reported normal,she started cross questioning the couple. She found out that the patient’s husband was fond of watching wrestling matches on tv and would often ask her to sit with him and watch the same. My mother advised her against this, and she reported after a week with a dramatic relief in the frequency and force of the kicking.

The example which i just gave, only establishes the profound influence that media has on the human psyche, such that, it even affects an unborn human child!

Every day, billions are bombarded by an ever-growing number of in-your -face ads, which tell us what we should have. It suddenly becomes impossible to live without that plasma screen TV and that sleek, shiny new car that promises every luxury.

The result: a stressed out urban adult, at the verge of a burnout.

When was the last time you read a magazine that did not have an article on weight loss? Can’t remember? Even the thin bipasha basu has endorsed sugar free sugar. Does she know the image she’s projecting to thousands of adolescent girls- just use this, and u’ll have the perfectly toned celeb body u dream about. Instead of targeting diabetics and obese ppl, these ads only mislead the masses.

The result is in front of us- a society filled with unsure, insecure teenage girls who are victim of eating disorders such as anorexia and bulimia. The media fails to tackle the problem of obesity delicately, and equates increase in body mass with decrease in self esteem, aggravating psychological problems.

And yet, some people ask if media influences the human psyche?

Of course, it has also proven to be a boon.

It was a powerful tool in facilitating India’s independence movement as it united the masses. Research has found that media exposure influenced masses in afro-Asian countries to bring about economic and political development during their transition from a traditional to a modern society.

Apart from politics, it has also alleviated the standard of living in rural areas, as awareness paves way for development and literacy. And what better example can I give of media promoting literacy in recent times, other than the famous teach India campaign started by the times of India.

Without a doubt, media does have an influence on human psyche. It is important for us, as a society, to regulate the power that media holds and not let it mislead the masses. We also have to be vigilant and prudent, and not believe all that we see and read. We can let the media educate us, and save ourselves and the earth, or we can become paranoid victims .the choice can be ours to make, only if we accept the fact that indeed, media does alter our choices, perceptions and decisions.                                                 

Normality is a Myth

Hmm..normality..what is normal? I guess it’s something that the majority decides. It probably is strategic and logical, or maybe its simply a byproduct of how most of us do things. a search for utopia in the realms of reality,perhaps?

I believe  ‘normal’ is ever-changing and evolving. Look at the world before and after the suffragette movement. It was considered normal to deny a woman the right to vote in the 1600s but one cannot think of doing the same in the 21st century.

Social norms are set to distinguish the acceptable normal behavior from the abnormal one. But the same set of norms can suffer from culture bias and lose their absolute stand. For example, Carla bruni kissing Nicolas sarkozy in public is well accepted in the west but the same act performed by mr. and mrs. Manmohan in our country would not go down well with the public.

As I sit in my statistical psychology class everyday, I’m made to belive that a normal distribution exists and well, if the data in front of me reads otherwise, then I’m taught ways to transform it to make it ‘near-normal’.

Are we humans, as a species,obsessed with a search for a normal in everything?

I ask this question because I recently came across Dean Hamer’s view on the god gene, where he talks about how we inherit a set of genes that predispose us towards spiritual experiences.

Similarly, are we genetically predisposed to demarcate boundaries for normalcy? Does our DNA code for putting  normal limits in every statistical index and behavior we come across?

If that’s the case, then I believe that we are at the brink of extinction, for Darwin’s principle spoke only about how, the more different we are, the better our chances are of surviving as a species.

I feel that limiting our quests to understand nature and beings by clinging to this baseline, is a gross mistake.  This mistake might not lead to extinction of our species but it might hinder the development and deeper understanding of psychology.

The Chance Encounter

As my friend Meghna and I, made our way towards the Platinum Jubilee Building, a voice from behind called us to stop.

That voice was of Giri sir’s.

In the last five years, I’ve had conversations with my previous headmasters on topics beyond the realm of studies but never like the one I was about to experience that day.

Sir motioned us to keep moving and we soon found ourselves accompanied by him.

As we walked along the red building, sir posed his first question to us-

“How tall is the PJ building?”

Until that moment, my interactions with sir had been restricted to wishing him the ritual good mornings and afternoons, or, to that one time, I had a conversation with sir while I was held captive in his office for committing the crime of bunking a class.

So, sir’s highly unexpected question left me surprised and amused at the same time, and all I could do was give him a silly smile.

But sir’s face bore an expression of utmost seriousness which forced me to retreat my smile.

Meghna, still unable to understand why sir wasn’t scolding us for being outside our classes, quickly answered in the hope of avoiding that from happening.

Her answer was 25 metres.

I promptly followed her lead and gave an answer close to hers, thinking and hoping that she had some calculated idea when it came to measuring distances, unlike me!

We did not get an approval from sir on any of our answers and soon gave up, out of humiliation. We had to stop, we did not want sir to think of us as two ignorant 11^th graders!

Finally, sir gave us the answer- The school’s PJ building is about 15 metres in height.

Before we could gather our wits, sir posed an equally confusing question-

“How many trees are there in the school?”

Not wanting to be looked upon as more of a fool than I already did, I stopped, took a quick glance from where we stood, made an approximate assessment, and came up with the number 150.

With similar intentions, Meghna also quoted a number.

Sir’s face was void of any expression that could be indicative of whether we were close to the actual answer or not.

So, we kept giving sir different answers till we reached the entrance to the building.

Sir came to a halt and addressed us.

Sir must not have spoken more than 5 phrases.

Few, as they were, they’re still difficult to recall.

However, I do remember sir telling us not to succumb to our needs and desires to an extent that we forget to notice things around us.

The awareness quotient sir gave us that day, was the gift of the day.

Rarely in life does one get to hear the wisdom imparted by someone that one looks upto (after being quizzed on such odd questions!).

I find myself fortunate enough to have been in such a position at the right time of my life.

I believe, sir wanted us to overcome those perceptions of our surroundings that are clouded by other people’s thoughts and emotions.

So, in a way, reality may be very different from what we assume.

Giri sir, knowingly or unknowingly, helped me break out of my limited sight and mind set.

This encounter has taught me to look at things, not the way they appear, but the way they do not.

Organised Crime in the presence of Disorganised Government

Mumbai Blasts on 13 July, 2011 =Indian Mujahideen's revenge for arresting it's operatives?

Now what? You say you can't ban these 'religious organisations'. That's not how politic works. So you'll further investigate till the time another blast claims innocent lives.

If this keeps up, then one might hear an extremist called on air exclaim:''After all, these explosions try to negate the population explosion.They are doing the government a favour!''

This is how i see it : Organised Crime in the presence of Disorganised Government

Dissolution

There is nothing more sorrowful,

than hearing a lover claim his love deceased.

There is nothing more fearful,

than hearing the ghost of present call itself your past.

There is agony and pain as you turn sore,

when you realise how powerless you are when you are made to feel like you're not loved anymore.

There is sadness, an abysmal sadness,

when the last memory slyly leaves your grip.

There comes a sense of foolishness in time of despair,

as you ask yourself- What if?

Your grief, is yours alone,

for you know not what his thoughts hold.

You're unaware of his plight or his joys.

You don't belong to his world anymore,

and he, to yours.

You accept.

You try to accept.

You try again.

You swayed like a pendulum,

for heart and mind have always been at the opposing ends of a never ending flight of stairs.

But you've ceased to sway.

As time wrapped you both in a whirlpool of  doom,

the 'I don't care' and casual 'okay' grew louder each day. 

They can't be ignored, they're a sign.

They signal the nearing of the end of your journey together.

Pick up your bags and don't look back.

As the adventurous days stationed themselves into their final destination,

The travelers resume living their separate lives.

There will come a time,

when you'll embrace peace,

for you know now about the magic that true love holds ,

even if only for a moment.

You will never be assured that true love will last or promises would be kept,

But you'll remember that they once accompanied you on your journey, making it worthwhile.

For lessons I have learnt and the wisdom gained,

I am thankful.

Yet, the grief of loss has no substitute nor can one do justice to it by trying to dismiss it. 

I capture the grief,

feel it running through my veins and pouring itself into my heart.

I submit to its power.

For grief has been a path of virtue for me,

as I aim to come out strong once again.

Understanding pain,

leads to sanity.

But know that this sanity might get lost soon.

You'll then remember you were once sane,

You once saw a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel that now resembles a dungeon for the slaves.

Maybe its too soon to hope for a glimpse of that light,

As its only been a while

since i immersed myself in sorrow's eyes.

At last, I am hopeful about the future,

I know that it holds happiness for all souls.

Destiny and life, I put myself in your arms once again,

Knowing all the while,

its my footsteps that will lead the way.

DECEIVING MYSELF

Devoid of life.
And devoid of joy.
I look in horror at the sky.

Seamless oceans drift apart.
Leaving my heart in hurtful scars.

Pain resides and calms me down.
For I know I won't feel strong for long.

These powers that are turning my life.
Know not what I despise.

Voices are becoming faint.
Echo is what remains.

Longing to get out.
Longing not to change about.

Obeying my mind's command.
Not questioning how i am not to be alarmed.

Letting the forces of change toss my actions in vain.
Forcing myself to restrain from all the actions that bring shame.

For people around me are strange.
Wanting to know how to conquer pain.

They know not it is not the way.
Its facing it all and being humane that will make you insane.

Once insane you'll see the rain.
Find all the meanings and discover true pain.

You'll believe all the meanings yet see no meaning.

That's when you'll ask me why it's so strange.

It all won't matter as I won't be the one hoping in disdain,
to hear from the one I am certain to have drained.

A Tattered Thought

The wind blows,

The birds chirp,

The days fade away,

The night falls,

Only to await its end.

TAKE ME

Take me to the other end of this world.

Where the sea lies with no passerby,

Where the moon glows in the glory of the night,

Where lights are distant and the ends unknown.

Take me to the other end of this world.

A place close to heaven,

A place close to my heart,

A place where no one drifts apart.

REALITY- A DISGRACE

He looks at her like he is hungry for her.
He follows her around like the death spirit follows its victim.

He stays alert for he knows he is wrong.

He wishes that the next turn she takes would lead to a deserted alley.
His wish comes true.

Now all he sees is her.

She realises that he is one of those men.
The hungry men.

She is ready to take him down.
But, what she doesn’t know is he’s got his way around.
His other hungry friends join him for a round.

She is terrified, helpless and in need of a voice.
A voice that would stand up against their bad choice.

She spots a man,
Walking along the line.
She calls up to him,
But he just skips from the scene.
Leaving the girl as a prey for those obscene.

She sees another man in the distant.
She sees a ray of hope.

The man standing by the road,
Is wearing a badge of hope.
He is counted as one of those men,
Who pledged to tackle crime with their strength.

She runs towards him.
Aware that the pace of footsteps following her has also increased.

She reaches the man wearing the badge.
She is glad to have found a helping hand.

She turns about, To show him who it is following her around town.

What she sees becomes hard to believe.
In this numbness, she is afraid to even think.

Those hungry men were in badges too.

Just like the one she had approached to.

She feels like escaping her body.
She feels like fleeing with her soul.
Leaving the body alone,
To feed the hungry wolves' sore.

She knows it can't be done.
She still looks for someone she could trust.
The one who would fight off the hungry ones' lust.

She has lost her faith.
But not her strength.

She can't spare a stare.
At the ones with lust in their gaze.

She puts her hand in the purse.
Wishing to forge through this curse.

She knows what she is searching for.
She knows where it lies.
She is just wishing all this was a lie.

Her hands grip it firmly.
She knows what she needs to do.

Her heart is beating faster.
All her blood being pumped to her next move.

She takes one last look at the hungry wolves.
And forces her limbs to take her away from these loons.

They knew this would happen.
She knew they would chase.

She climbs some stairs,
And stops to stare.

They didn’t know she would do this in despair.

She took away their stare.

The gun's six bullets met them while they glared.

The prey fled from this grave air.