Deep inside,

Access granted to only a privileged few

Namely me, I, myself

And to no one else but me.

Deep inside,

An idea is born,

Waiting to be shared with all.

But before this can happen,

Bang!A seal: Classified.

Access denied to all

But me.

Deep inside,

The idea grows,

Nourished by all

But access granted

To the only “me”

Deep inside,

She wants to be a poet,

She yearns to break free her chains

Go out and play with her friends: The Words.

Who try to reach her,

Access denied….

Is all they get.

Deep inside,

An idea is born,

She wants to escape.

There is always some place in the corner.

Perhaps, she thinks,

One day her Prince Charming,

Might hack

And rescue her.

But what if?

All he might get is

“Access denied!”

Deep inside,

She decides,

The time has come,

She prepares to flee,

She has found the weak spot.

No one can stop her now,

Not even me.

Deep inside,

It’s empty…

She has fled…


New found freedom,

Access granted to all

But me.


Still enjoying her independence

Not caring if she is “independent” or “independant”.


Deep inside,

She is scared of the new world.

New rules,


And spell checks.

She is still chained…

She feels.

Deep inside,

She is back.

But now…

Access granted to all

And me.


In pursuit of a perfect life.

Fraser_spiral.svg_I do not care if I am:

Intelligent, brilliant

Or mediocre

Or even an imbecile.

Filthy rich, living in a golden palace;

Or desperately poor,

Living in a filthy dump.

I do not care:

If I have a voice of a nightingale,

Or a hideous voice used to scare naughty children.

If I have a Lamborghini to get me around,

Or a wheelchair for my paralyzed limbs.

I do not want to care:

If someone admires me

Or wants to run away at the sight of my presence,

If I am fat

Or thin.

A beautiful, super model

Or a plain Jane.

I do not care:

If I am an embodiment of sanity

Or a delusional schizophrenic,

If I am brave, valiant, adventurous and wise

Or cowardly, panic struck and rattlebrained.

I do not want to care:

If I love to hate

Or hate to love

Or like to like a person or a thing.

I do not care:

If my room is sparkling clean,

With a place for everything and everything in its place

Or, if it is bathed in dust and cobwebs that occupy the chaotic space.


That I need to live this life,

I do not want to care,

If the life I live is perfect

Or filled with all the unimaginable flaws that are far from being reparable.


That I need to cherish the gift of life,

For more important than the varied imperfections,

Is Love,

Towards those around me, no matter how different they might be.


Is, with Love, I can


Far away, from the blemished past

And the uncertainty of the future.

The Inner Battle


Ouroboros:Google it.

As the blue bird
Whisks past,
The sun
Smiles on the yellow wings of the butterflies
Waltzing above the
Glistening , frothing river that
Flows over black rocks.

Black as the eyes that
Behold the beauty of the dark forest around.
The dark forest in which
Dwells Peace.

Peace that struggles
Struggles to pierce
The beholder of the beautiful sight.

The one who runs
To the trees, to the hills
And the rivers.
The rivers that
Quench the fire of the battle within.

The burning pain
The stifled screams,
The dark thoughts , all
Engage in an endless battle.

A battle for peace that
Violently caresses
The burning spirit.

The spirit that struggles
Struggles to reach
The peace flowing in
From the rustling leaves and
The wind carrying the cries of blue birds.

As a blue bird
Whisks past,
Forcing peace to
Pierce through many scarred layers.

The sun
Smiles on the shiny yellow wings
Of butterflies
Waltzing the pain away above the
Glistening, frothing river.

The river that
Flows over the black rocks
Black as the eyes of the beholder,
Who bids goodbye
To the fear and sorrows that
Disappear in the dark forest.

The dark forest in which
Dwells peace.