The Blue Striped Pyjamas

I can't remember now.
I can't remember how I got here.
All I see are ghost like people everywhere.
Unclean, filthy, skinny people,
who walked around with a tortured look on their faces.
The setting was miserable,
just like the people in it,
and I felt out of place.
When I feel like I should leave,
I suddenly remember why I am here.
And I stay.
Because a friend in need is a friend indeed.
That is why I am here,
in a ghost town,
wearing striped blue pyjama's.
As we walk,
me and my last friend,
the sky begins to thunder,
and everything seems dimmer.
We hunt and hunt,
from one hut to another,
looking, searching, shouting,
praying that we achieve our goal.
Then, my friend runs into the last hut we scavenge through,
and then, I don't understand what happens.
The guards- 
dressed just like those who work for my father, my country-
shout rudely, 
push and shove at all who seek some relief
in this small, gloomy, dark hut.
Now, a river of ghosts pour out,
dragging us frantically along,
and then it begins to rain.
What was this place?
This is no haven for then enemy;
this place is Hell,
tormenting people for eternity.
At last we are thrown towards a shelter,
that hid us from the rain,
but also hid us from all.
Then everybody was ordered to remove our uniform,
which I followed, thinking that this would soon be over.
Mostly naked, the river resumed its course,
flowing finally into a small room,
much to tiny to hold everybody,
but there was no choice.
Now I felt fear,
a feeling of anxiety rushed through me,
and I suddenly wondered:
What if I have been believing the wrong facts this whole time?
The lights went our,
and many emotions bloomed in me;
I was confused,
wondering what the light had to do with anything.
In all of this, I turned to my friend for reassurance,
but, even in the dark I could make out,
that he was as confused and scared as I am.
From above, light filled the room,
and now, me and my last friend, held onto each other,
waiting for it to be over.
Something dropped in bits from above,
and as quickly as it came, 
the light was gone.
But then my sense were burning;
my eyes were on fire,
my ears were ringing,
I couldn't breathe, my lungs felt like they were melting,
my body felt like it was in hot oil.
I used all the strength I could muster,
to shout in pain,
to bang on the iron walls of this doomed pit,
to beg for mercy.
And then, my vision failed,
I couldn't hear anything,
I couldn't feel anything.
Slowly I felt myself fading away,
and then...
I felt nothing.


(Inspired by the movie "The Boy In Striped Pyjamas")

Will you be my friend?

[Written on 5/2/2009]


I am human,
just like everyone else.
I eat to survive,
just like everyone else.
I drink, I talk, I smile, I frown,
I laugh, I cry, I see, I hear,
just like everyone else.
But everyone else,
doesn't consider me human.
They see me as an alien.
They look at me as if,
I don't belong.
Their smiles are full of pity.
Little children point their fingers at me.
Why, you ask.
Because I look different.
My body has been oddly formed.
My legs don't listen to me.
My arms stick out, in a strange way.
So I can't walk like others,
I can't write like others,
I can't talk as fluently as others,
I am not like others.
But I want to be considered human.
I want to play, like others.
I don't know about you,
but I don't care about my figure,
or my speech, or my limbs.
All I want is a friend.
A friend who doesn't see me from the outside,
but see's me from the inside.
But you normal people,
don't think of us happily.
You think of us pitifully,
which us special people hate.
Pity. That's what we hate.
Why do you think like that?
What can you do about us?
Can you change us?
No, you can't.
We will always be like this.
But you can act,
like you think I'm normal.
You can laugh with me,
share happy moments with me.
So I feel I'm normal.
I ask everyone
the same question.
Now I'll ask you again.
I want to be happy,
I want to be appreciated,
So, 
will you be my friend?

Disoriented

I feel so lost.
All priority in my life seems to be a joke lately.
What will help me pull through life,
seems to be a second option,
I feel confused.
I feel insanely disoriented.
I can feel the clock ticking within,
saying that soon it will be too late.

I can hear shouts of a million people,

telling me that I am fucking stupid,

that if all of this goes,

I am a goner.

Yet, as if a nightmare had just visited,

I wake up and find myself sleeping through what is important,

and I feel relieved, thankful that it was all a dream,

which might become a reality,

if I don't do anything about it.

I feel lost,

I feel confused,

I feel so damn disoriented. 

Beautiful Smiles

She smiled at me that day.

In her rusting wheel chair,

with her arms twisted in different ways,

her feet smaller than they should,

she looked at me with her twinkling green eyes,

and smiled, 

looking so joyous,

it broke my heart.

Then, her smile disappeared as soon as it came,

like the clouds blocking the sun.

On the street,

in the midst of a huge crowd,

she lay on her wheelchair,

her eyes darting from side to side,

as she tried to ignore

the staring,

the whispering,

the sudden gasps,

the clucking of tongues,

the look drenched with pity,

the uneasiness,

everything.

At that moment,

I felt this horrible, sharp feeling

pierce my heart.

I ran to her,

giving everybody in the rushing crowd,

a look of anger, disgust,

and when someone,

some heartless, shameless human being,

stopped right in front of her,

and laughed,

cackling like an old hag,

I felt this urge to curl my finger, 

take a swing, 

and knock that person right in the kisser.

But, just then,

I felt her rest her head against my arm, 

and she looked at me with this smile,

the kind of smile I won't be able to imitate 

for a very long time.

This smile was filled with wisdom,

with all the knowledge there is to know,

this smile signified that she understood,

she understood everything.

And when I stood there looking at her with pain,

she smiled, 

and then laughed,

and shook her head,

and then, with some difficulty,

she tugged at my arm,

and pulled me forward,

so I could hear her.

"If all I wanted was for others to pity me,

  to feel sad for me,

  to cry for my misery, my suffering, my pain,

  I would have got what I wanted a long time ago.

  I am human, you know that.

  I breathe, I eat, I cry, I laugh,

  I feel human feelings,

  I know what it is to love,

  I know what it is to feel joy,

  I know every emotion you know,

  therefore, I am as human as you are.

  What is on the outside really does not matter,

  what matters is the content inside all of us,

  our mind, our soul.

  All the people in the world are not alike, 

  and all of us cannot be controlled,

  so why bother about them?

  Someday, in some life,

  they will understand that

  I am no different from them.

  I may not look the same,

  I cannot do half the things they can,

  I may not be able to associate with them, or them with me,

  but in the end,

  removing all unique features from one another,

  we are all the same.

  So please, I have got enough of people,

  pitying me, crying for me,

  what I really need now, 

  is for someone to treat me as their equal,

  because every human being

  is the same,

  and has to be treated the same."

She smiled at me again,

and smiled at the crowd.

I shook my head and smiled,

wiping the tears that were flowing down my face,

and we stood there,

smiling at everybody passing,

hoping and knowing that

acceptance, equality, the purest form of happiness,

wasn't far away.

Long lost sibling...

I wish you were here,

you, who knows my every emotion,

who gets my every move,

who tells me that I am right,

even when I believe that I am wrong.

Don't get me wrong;

I am not implying emotions

that exceed friendship.

You are this sibling belonging to a different family.

I fail to understand you,

sometimes I ridicule your every move.

How can I be so heartless?

Though you are always right

about ever what why and how,

though you have the right solution always,

I disagree,

because of how stupidly stubborn I am.

When ever we meet, in any form,

you always ask me about how I am,

about how I feel,

and you make sure I am okay.

You always make sure I am smiling,

even if you are not.

Dear friend,

a long lost sibling,

I hope someday,

I will be able to understand

everything there is to you,

as well as you so surprisingly understand me.

Heartless

I feel so stupid.

Falling so hard that what I feel is beyond pain.

I am sick of this.

Why can't I be heartless and cold,

cold like ice?

Because when one is in pain,

ice soothes the anger and suffering;

but fire aggravates everything,

fire, something useful and destructive

at the same time.

With a sword that slices and kills,

I want to cut out my heart

and throw it away,

so that when I see misery

I smile with contempt

and laugh with amusement.

And you.

I swear the day you end up like me,

I will be the first one
to slap you hard

and shriek with delight.

Won't it be just amazing,

to live with no feeling, no emotions,

to live without a heart at all?

 

Complication

Complication.
I am on the verge of complication.
I am turning something which 
is totally irrelevant in the eyes
of bystanders.
What do they know?
What do they do
when my heart is torn from its place?
They can't say anything,
they have no right
to say utter crap about something
that hurts like an arrow to the heart,
or worse, far worse.
See, this is the bad thing
about the heart and the mind
of a person who is affected
by every word said 
about things
that they have no right to talk about.
So here I am,
on the verge of complication,
crying tears that fall,
but never land...

Painful Eternity

Sick.

Just sick.

Sick how I, like everyone else,

am given a life,

and am told to live it,

experiment with it,

to make it the happiest in the world,

yet I end up with this feeling.

This feeling is like a tumour,

spreading across me,

making me look at the world all wrong.

In the happiest of moments,

I feel something pulling me down,

grabbing my feet and sucking me in,

into this place where there is no sunshine,

where I can hear moans of pain,

where I feel so cold,

that my blood stops flowing,

and I feel like a corpse,

stuck for an eternity with pain stuck inside me...

Insane Anger

This insane anger,
it is killing me.
I can feel it,
pulsing through my veins,
like a drug, urging me to give it way
to let my blood boil,
to let ugly thoughts of pain
fill my weak mind.
It lives on my broken relationships
laughing as I shout and scream,
as I run forward and punch,
as I cry and scowl,
as I blow all my dear ones away...
It has moulded me into a monster,
who is on the way to losing everything...