These thoughts are what I know of days,
That start and end like the life of a person,
Just bones and carcasses and empty smiles,
Filling the world with the hope of jolly aisles...

The days pass by, the swampy nights pass by,
The hollow man passes by, but my sleep dies,
Death of regret and repress are what make me survive,
Like the lights in my room that keep me alive...

Searching for passengers in search of paths,
I crossed the boundaries of oceans all alone,
Blissfully mourning my existence as a subject,
And woefully celebraring my fears as an object.

Trying to capture the imagination of thousands;
In a little bottle of pain, I failed, I failed again,
Not surprising given my state of constant repair,
I laud, and cheer everyone here waiting to see my despair...

© Rakesh Bal.