The Escape Artist

Carved into the back of the tree in the park,
Is an old sign that says
"Born to be free".
I'm the tree with roots that go farther than the
sense of the writer's irony.

Would you believe that people can be sharpened like a pencil
Created to be consumed and destroy themselves
As they're done living.
Pencils don't consider saving themselves up for a rainy day.

Everyday reality is like a drug to numb the senses
Everyday is determined to make me forget
Everyday is a cage for the mind
And everyday I become an escape artist.

I sit and laugh louder than anyone
As they sit and tell me how it is that I can be more normal
They offer me up prizes and liken them
To the lights at the end of the tunnel. 

Ghav

Dil ka ek kona reh gaya Tha bedaag

Kaanton kankaron se bacha Kar bedhadak chal rahi thi main

Ki kaunsa Naya Dard ya ghav ise choo payega.

Afsos ki iski ijazat nahi hoti jab pyar ho jata hai

Uske roothne mañane se befikr thi main.

Kabhi socha nahi Tha ki in sab baaton se aage kuch hoga

Ki woh nahi hoga.

Fir kya hoga

Usi se puchna hoga ki kya hoga ab mera

Is dil ka, jo Chot khane ki aadat me Tha, use

Bulaa bitha Kar mehman nawazi se do baatein bolkar phuslaya

Fir kaha ab zarurat nahi Hai aapki.

Kyunki tum pyar bohot karte ho.

Sabse karte ho.

Aur sirf mujhse nahi karoge. Mere Banke rahoge.

Haan yahi toh hun main.

Isi Sach ke saath tumne pasand Kiya Tha

Aur ab Haq ye Hai ki bardasht nahi Hota tumhe

Mera Sach. Aur mujhse tumhara Haq.