Author: Harpreet Chhachhia

Just me and nothing else but.

Soon

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Have I become old?
Am I to meet regret?
Have my dreams all been sold?
Is this all I get?

Where has all my faith gone?
Am I finally alone?
After all the pain I’ve borne
I can’t even know you’ll atone?

Is this all I learn
With nothing else left to know?
I cannot even yearn,
Before I must willfully let go?

Life can seek the young –
A new phase of the same moon;
But this song has been sung,
They will all be old soon.

I still can write,
Although in the dark;
Maybe, one last fight
To make some sort of mark.

I could, I know.

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I could learn to hate the memory of you –
For, if this where you planned to leave me –
You shouldn’t have made promises to be true –
You should have let my lonely heart be.

Loneliness hurts, I know, but it doesn’t infect
The future’s hope in good dreams of time.
Now all you’ve left me are tears that reflect
Seeping sores living through contrived rhyme.

Daddy Dearest

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I guess my dad handicapped me:
With iron fists and alcohol breath,
He showed me a path to anger,
He brought me closer to death.
I cheated his on-hand lessons
To follow my sexual heart,
And thought myself so strong and proud
To escape the gay, body mart.
But men who are lovers become fathers,
Eventually, soon or late,
Iron breath is replaced by cold fancy,
Waiting a line away from hate.
So dad conceived a wriggly sperm,
That he thought wriggled out way too wrong,
So here the poor thing vainly sits and writes,
Still hoping to seem strong through this song.