Category: Written in 2023

Unmade

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

No matter how hard you want it
And youth makes you believe otherwise,
That people who love you will stay
And not bargain and deal in lies.

The parents, who made you you,
Will want you to be them instead;
Siblings you played with, and cared for,
Will one day wish you dead.

No matter how much you deserve love,
The people you opened yourself to will go;
And whatever you learnt of love and the heart
Will cease to remain just so.

Like the food you love and eat;
But which is excreted in a few hours,
The hope you cling to shall wither
And reach the end of all flowers.

As you age your body will wither,
Your mind will fall numb and your heart will fade,
Youth will come to mock your hunger –
In its laughter, will you be unmade.

Sleep

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Sleep lets you know
What death feels like,
When you get into bed,
And those you love
Don’t know you’re alive.
It is death.
It shows you
The nightmare
Of being alone.
Even in life.

I

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia3 Comments

I am told the world lies,
None mean what they say;
And, if, perhaps, they do,
The truth changes, every day.

The love they speak of fades;
The vows they make all break;
The hope they give tarnishes;
Yet, it all was never meant to be… fake.

And I wish I could deceive
The ones I love and hate;
I wish I could erase promises,
Like cleaning chalk from slate.

But I can’t. I mean every word.
I can’t bother to deal in lies.
My truth is all I have living,
Without it, this character dies.