Solace in words

Dear Bestfriend,                           Now that you're going away, across the bay, I'll miss seeing you everyday, I'll miss our sessions with the mushy clay, The sandbox that turned us blue and grey, Our tug of war series till the rope frayed. Now that you're going away, across the bay, Oh I'd miss seeing you everyday. I hope and wish that you could stay, But everyone's helpless in life's play, But worry not, my heart is where you'll forever stay. I wrote this poem when I was 11 and my bestfriend Adyasha was going out of the station as her dad got posted to Delhi. Shifting and saying goodbye is the hardest part of being an army kid.

Forks aren't meant to be poked in everyone's meat, Or else even a generous amount of electroplating wouldn't be able to fight the corrosive defeat 

Books are a high to the reader’s soul, An escapade to its boredom, Food to its mind, And a companion to its solitary.

The war fields that carry the smell of blood; a soldier's blood, Call out for more, They've relished their thirst a thousand times, Yet quench for more. But look at our patriotic saviours, They care about nothing but their nation, Ready to relish the thirst of the badlands  for yet another thousand times.

Hyped up thoughts causing unrest, Lying in your bed, awake and half dressed, The fainted glow of the night bulb keeps you,  Up till the crack of dawn, And it will do so, Till the bulb dies to the fuse, Till you find the midnight's muse.