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A perpetual label stuck on your face

Traps your body behind callous cells

This painful trap hurts you inside

But your pain is too intricate to evaluate

The label tries to get to your knees,

Slows you down and mutilates your feet

Disabled you cannot shift through the space,

Cells get stronger with every move you make

The other face of the cell seems impossible to reach,

When you are ‘unworthy’ and in some severe pain

The warden laughs hysterically at your face

He sees the label and calls you name

The label is apparently too large to not notice

It is capitalized, made bold and underlined

He goes on further to wipe your ways

And will make sure you remain impaired for days

You may cry but it’d be inaudible

So others may not even hear your hollers

The label is the one to be blamed

It lingers as a barrier between you and the world

 

It might knock on your door

Past haunts and stalks us

it peeps now and it will peep then

It will come knocking on your door

and you'll run to it again

with mind frozen and heart enthralled

You will try to resist yourself

It is difficult as you'll then recall

what you cannot really erase from you

and has really made you who you are

but you will be squashed in your two faces

But then living in your past makes you sad

both expressively and as a person

and you'll try to look forward to a vivid fresh face

that makes you up and dresses you up

in a more assiduous way

You might seek for its traces in the new face

and replacements in a new grace

but faces are never the same again

even they are squashed between their two sides

You can sense your past in your heart

but it's gone farther than you assume

Just before you felt it by your side

It was gone on a path far and wide

Face is a canvas

The face is a canvas with

vivid, colorful strokes and detailed curves

each stroke of brush is my feel

I express them with a humble will

I can keep on painting forever

I want it to have errors

I want to commit mistakes

I want to ruin my painting

and fix it so real

the brush is my brain doing its own thing

it doesn't care what color I choose 

it blends them in adequately,

it leaves adorable imperfections

The brush can change me,

a single curve with brush can make me smile

a single curve by brush can make me sad

few painted drops of water can make me cry

few details on my forehead can make me frown

The Pair of Happiness

The world was just Negative film 

with clichéd frowns or overrated happiness 

until I saw a studded layer in front of myself 

Which could make miracles happen 

When the devil who I thought was evil 

was handed a pair of upbeat daisies 

The wand worked at its best when 

I could agree with someone's opinion 

Until that someone who I thought was totally discrete,  

could complete my sentences without efforts 

It made me see the wide sea so scary 

incarnated as a treasure of secrets and possibilities 

They see what they want to see 

they search for what they yearn to find 

they notice what we can complete our life with 

They can Find the Master-key to our hearts 

Hidden by the centuries of Grief or Ego 

That stop us from looking at ourselves 

Because the cumbersome heart beats 

turn into the gleam 

Or the shock to the brain 

makes the sight vacant 

These beads of hope speak what we need 

They make us believe in what we aim for 

These eyes are what we are 

and they make a perfect pair of merriment