By Hashmat Naiyareen
In the search for a mild ocean wave
In the light of a hollow dark grave
You come looking for me
Like the world was not enough
In the cacophony of silence
You see my face
My face?
Don't trust it, for it might be a farce
Or might just be a sorrowed heart
I did not paint the shape it now holds
What you see, is not my own
My words, though, very much mine
But you don't listen, you do mind
I'm pretty, I'm beautiful, I'm a breath of fresh air
I'm a periwinkle to garnish your heir
Sudden impulse, not my thing at all
I'm a pretty face, photoshopped
You remind me of that every day
My screams leave a bruise
I want them to. To carve a notion
In the hunted slots, I smile, my face
Beautified.
That's all they, see. Not my strength to
Pull a dragon's tail, or
Shout from the valleys when it's about to rain
I am meant to pluck the leaves
And make tea, I am supposed to.
My pretty face doesn’t deny me that freedom
It's a ribbon of flowers, mostly of copper
Tied around my hands to adorn my being
I'm a chirping bird caught in a cage, I smile
To adorn my pretty face.
“You see my face
My face?
Don’t trust it, for it might be a farce"
These lines feel as if they are alive. :)
“I did not paint the shape it now holds
What you see, is not my own”
I loved these lines!