Manisha Pant
Wide range of cocktails , shining out bright in the bar;
Beers, wines and liquors; followed by salted chips in the jar.
Drugs addiction I love, cocaine is my favorite,
Wait! Did I tell you about heroin?
That is too hot to handle so far.
Long sleeping hours, waking up late;
Smoking my lungs out, cool life is what I bait.
Fizzy drinks my taste buds like,
Furious speeds are of my bike;
Call me 'chilled out' or brand me Fun;
I owe a bandana and possess a gun.
Callous,careless, rude and sued,
These are my virtues and I am not screwed.
Cohabitation is not my way;
I live aloof and relations I slay.
Dare you converse with me sweet and soft,
I will bang you, thud you with words so frost.
Hookah clubs, pubs and dance bars;
These are the highlights of my weekend hours.
My room is a mess and I share less,
Lasses I call to visit at dusk;
Then who cares if it's love or lust .
I, me and myself are the starets of my life,
Good deeds are all nonsense; bad deeds I must hide.
PUBG I play online,outdoor games I decline,
24X7 Net surfing on mobile; PC's ,androids keep me alive.
Coming to food , it's junk all bright;
Nutrients less I, prefer pizza bite.
But then.... my story has something to say-
It has been long since I left my roots and clay
Trapped in hollowness and vulnerability;
I have narrations not happy and gay.
With gloominess, dullness and sadness around,
I feel so low, cry all night and frown.
No one loves me , I sleep in fright;
Tears rolling down my cheeks,
I think of my childhood in sunnier climes,
When I had my besties, who made me ring some happy chimes.
They were always there through thick and thin,
Supporting me ample and making me win.
We would ride our dear horses, then hide high and run;
Up in the lush green mountains, behind the wonderful sun.
All golden memories, embracing golden times;
Home-made food and backyard limes.
Then wandering in selfishness, I got lost in the dark big woods,
Loosing friends, home and all brotherhoods.
Now I live in a hefty world;
Loud I scream and round I swirl,
Oh! I am stuck in a swampy curl.
Now want to go back, but the clock seems dead,
My survival is in question; and judgements have been said.
The path is destructed, lonely and fade,
Slowly breathing relinquish and slowly I divagate.