Noise

In the quiet of the grave,

a noxious noise makes me rave.



I dont hear a sound,

but within my mind, rages,

the world is still all around,

a malicious maelstorm unbound.



In the quiet of the grave,

a noxious noise makes me rave.



Some give me strange, silent stares,

others do not pay heed.

For they have the ear to not hear,

the rowing racket within.



In the quiet of the grave,

a noxious noise makes me rave.



It is not the a melody, mellifluous and musical,

A cacophony it is, croaky and coarse,

It jabs and bites, and laughs at me,

for it knows me more than myself.



In the quiet of the grave,

a noxious noise makes me rave.



At times i obey it, at times i mock,

but still it keeps shouting in defiance.

Scolding me, scoffing me and criticizing,

is my own acerbic conscience.



-Shivam







P.S The funny thing is, I wrote this poem in pin-drop silence! Not a sound anywhere!

I am strong

I am, I am so strong,

Never, never am I wrong.



Heartbreaks I have faced a dozen,

and yet my heart holds on,

Never has the world seen me cry,

for my tears i swallow, not roll down my eye.

And yet,

I am, I am so strong,

Never, never am I wrong.



My shoulders are, droopy,

bearing the woes and weights of the world

Sometimes, them I straighten and dry,

for I too need a shoulder to cry.

And yet,

I am, I am so strong,

Alas, never, never am I so wrong!