By Ishaan.

Strolling down the garden trail,
Tracing the descending summer dusk;
I spotted tiny, twinkly lights,
Dot the near horizon. Like-
The milky way itself,
had descended from the yonder gaze.
And with it, bought a wave,
Of nostalgic reminisce of bygone days.

For once, these fluttering flickers,
Danced away every summer night,
Like a million fairies, out-
On a moonlit date.
I yearned to reach out, but,
I remember my neighbour’s endless admonition,
To let these little beings be. For-
Their death brings bad omen.
So I did, and in awed silence,
We watched. As they-
Drifted into the porch,
Wandered, explored and escaped.
The delicate balance of the wild,
And civilized, left untampered.

Yet, I seldom recall,
Watching these fireflies fade. But-
Nor do I remember the chatter,
Of sparrows, die down.
Yet, now that I notice,
It’s been a while, since-
I’ve seen them around.
Then again, I barely even recollect,
My beloved neighbour moving away.

Maybe that’s the thing about change.
It’s far too subtle to be felt,
Until it’s too late.

I Want To Kill Myself.

Some Nights-
I Want To Kill Myself.

Hold A Knife To My Wrist,
And Slice Right Through.
I Know, Occassionally-
You Do Too.
Some Nights,
It’s The Betrayals and Heartaches. Others,
Worse Weekday Blues.
I Know You Have Your Reasons,
I Assure You, We All Do.
But, Don’t.
If Not For Yourself,
Then For The Toil Of The Ones,
Who Raised You.
If Not Them, Then-
The Millions,
Whose Death Dawned On Them,
Before Maturity Did.
Who, Never Had The Choice Of Life,
Like You Do. Who,
Would Sell Their Souls,
To Salvage The Light Of Another Day.
The Same Life, You Choose To Erase,
In an Unceremonious Way,
Just Because, Someone-
Did What They Did, While Others-
Ignored Your Cry For Help.
But, Don’t You Believe,
It’s A Victory Of Those Turncoats,
If You Chose To Recede,
Into An Eternal Stupor,
Six Feet Underneath?
I Promise You, There’s More To Life,
Than This.

On A Sorrow’d Night,
When The Devil Knocks,
Beckoning Your Soul,
Steep’d In Tragedy,
To Grace His Feast Of The Fallen.
I Hope You Find The Courage,
To Tell Him,
That You Shall Live,
To Die Another Day.

The Goal of Life,
Is Never To Simply Cease To Exist.
We’re Not Poultry, Friend.
Our Value Doesn’t Begin,
At Death. If You Think,
You Could Do No Good Living,
I Assure You, You’d Just Be Worse Off,

Now, Calm Your Heart,
Know Your Worth,
Cherish Your Survival,
And Go Right Back To Bed.