THE LAST LEAP

The man behind the title, as usual, Achyuth. No words can describe how grateful I am. :) 

In the darkness of the night
By the lone water side
She held her head high
Holding a book
That earned some looks
From the ones that were uncouth

Under the gleam of the night sky
beneath the mankind
She held her book high
Showing it to the lost souls
The ones that were well read

Beside the shore
Feeling the rage
She glanced at the river
Who gazed back with regret
Knowing what it awaited in a moment

Binding the book with love
promises and what not,
she leaped to the right
where the river shed tears
catching another soul
Prey to the society
Gift for the heavens. 

SEE YOU SOON.

I have been everywhere

 On the face of the kind

 On the face of the blind

 I help people let go of their feelings

By making myself roll down their chin

I have been up there all day

Waiting to come down

 and meet my loved ones

As I sway down I meet them

Strangers of mine

But the same kind as mine

 We talk for some time

 And finally reaches the land

Some of us part ways

But some of us stick together

 We flow through path and soil,

 Sticks and stones, dirt and bones

 I still hold onto my loved one

 As we flow down the hill

Then I see a place

Where we have to part our ways

 I prepare myself to say goodbye

 Hoping to meet again.

And to feel that joy again.

To enjoy the feeling of holding hands,

 and sneaking a mere glance.

A death note.

I have never heard silence

In this mansion before

Shattering of glasses

Plates and vases

“Look at her! That lucky girl”

They all said, but

They never knew, what happened

Within that four walls of prison.

Inside one cell, lived a woman

Strands of white hair, maybe into her forty’s

She sews a white cloth, with tears

Down her cheeks, streaming without a break

In the other, lived a girl in her 20’s

A stack of books, and a roll of paper

She glances afar, reaching her hands out

To snatch her dream from the treacherous man

Within the four walls in the corner

Is a girl in her teenage

Dusty books and crumpled papers

She never looks up from

That pamphlet she holds onto

A death note perhaps.

He comes in, the traitor

The man who trapped his family

For his mere pleasure

He looks into the cell

His once beloved life, now his sole enemy.

He gets satisfied, seeing

Her wrinkles and her tears

He then looks into the next

And curses her for

Chasing her dreams, dreams

She once had.

He goes to the next, his youngest daughter

He spits into the cell

Smiling his heart out.

He pours something in

With pungent smell and

Warning sigh. He lights a match

And throws it in.

He laughs aloud, while

The others wept.

A mother who lost her penny

A Sister who lost her diary.