This is Me
_the Me with a broken pen,
shambling on broken lines
with smoke_filled ink
gushing out even and odd feelings
to sticky paper's bin everyday.

This is ME,
_the me with a broken home
and a flow_less bloodline,
no tea, no blanket left,
to conquer the night predators
whenever the blue moon
stares back at me,
on the lonely street bench
no arms around my neck, no cuddles.

This is ME
_the Me with a luminous light,
lightening up your gloomy day
with words warmer than the summer sun,
rejuvenating your lips with blooming smiles.
while I live with the strains
from the tortures of life's villain.

This is ME
_the Me in shackles,
chained up beside the stream of memories
With a necklace of stagnant thoughts;
"Let bygones be bygones
Bury the past in a grave,walk to your future "
While to the past I was just a prey
it hunts me secs by secs
as I've found it hard to stop thinking
about days of emptiness and droughts.