And the travesty of humankind
lies, in the masks which try to hide,
the souls within, that crave to thrive
on this plane of

imagined lies.

This is something I had written down a few months back while reflecting on how, we try to put on a show for the world, while our real true selves just want free expression. But we are too busy pleasing the world, to please ourselves, aren’t we? 



Her face was plain. 

But her mind was an exotic collage: of all the Muses Insane. 

Sometimes pretty is as pretty does. 
Sometimes not. 

In a world of False castles and Sand towers, 
her stone tudor had started to break. 

Funny how even firm foundations can shake. 

But pretty is as pretty does. 

So she Closed off the rickety tudor. 
Wretched heart filled with ruthless fervour. 

And she slithered close to the edge of the Fall- 

For pretty is as pretty does. 

For once she didn’t care at all. 





I embrace your 
Midas touch 

leaving bruises all over my 
virgin soul. 

I revere the majesty of your words 

that render me hopeless of 



These sins (why should they be branded so?) 

are the definitions of my burning core, 

corrupted by your charming cruelty. 

Plunder my entrails and let me be one 

with the Whole.