AN UNJUSTIFIED REVENGE

I hear whispers around me. "He's an obsessed psycopath." I silently agree. He is indeed an obsessed psycopath. How could he do what he was going to do? How could he be so heartless? I picture him walking, walking towards the place he once called home. I know it really was happening. He opens the front door. He has his key. Walking slowly, he feels his left jacket for the gun. The gun that he had smugled from his own father's home.
He glances back at his childhood. How he had never done thigs that the other kids did so freely. He had to study then. Make a name for himself. He had to go to music class. He had to know it all. He had to kneel before his father, plead his mother, give away before his family.
He was awarded no pride, no respect, no dignity. Nobody understood him. They only understood his cover, a mould he had fit into so perfectly. They never understood the boy underneath. If anybody would have asked him why he was killing the people he loved, he would look them straight in the eye and say, 'Because they killed me everyday. Every single stinking day".
I half heartedly try to stop him but silently I urge him on. Urge him on to take out his frustration. That's the only way left. He walks into the dining room. His mother, father and Katrina are having dinner.
Poor Katrina, he thought, she'll have to die too. She'll have to pay the price for being born in this family"
He takes out his gun and aims it at his father. His mother is screamig something but he doesn't seem to hear. He pulls the trigger. 1 down, 2 to go. He aims the gun at his mother now. His mother is screaming. He pulls the trigger again. 2 down 1 to go.
Katrina is still sitting on her chair. She's closed her eyes and is silently praying. He slowly walks up to her, holds her hands and kisses both her cheeks.
"I'm sorry", he whispers. Thren pulls the trigger.
Katrina falls to the floor. Not a tear on her soft cheek.
I walk out of the house slowly.
I silently agree.
I am an obsessed psycopath.

A RHYME, NOTHING ELSE

A whisper
A falling out
Don't push her
She'll grow right out

Autumn
Colorful sadness
Winter
White and grey fun

A grave
Ending of disaster
A wave
Disappearing faster

Touch
A never ending story
So much
Understanding glory

Grief
An unsatisfied emotion
Weep
An altered notion

A smile
Untouched treasure
Miles
Of travel and measure

The voice
That gave away
No noise
Greif can't stay

The culprit
An uneasy man
A misprint
Relationships bland

A rhyme
And the music
It's time
Don't want to loose it

Treason
That's growing fast
Loosen
Because the grip can't last

THE ELEVENTH BLUES

So now I totally hate school...probably because of the following:

• Carmel Convent School has disclaimed me. They have denied me a subject. No subject. I'm in the counselling list with weird people like *o***n ***i and b*****r (names censored for the blogger's security). I'm streamless.

• Even if I do get science our class teacher is Beena John who is like my totally favourite class teacher (note the sarcasm). Today she told me, "If you're traking science, I think you should get serious and leave your tenth standard behaviour behind". So there goes, SHE LOVES ME!!!!

• We got Rashmi Chaudhary as our English teacher, which after Swati Das is a huge shock. It was the first day and she bugged us to the limit. She says 'e'ctually instead of 'a'ctually. Plus all her Boxword and Small dictionary pains - sheesh!

So, basically, I am streamless and still cribbing about a life that I dream to have for the next 2 years. Wierd, Wierd Me!

But you can't really blame me because that IS normal human behaviour.

I just hope I get science tomorrow.

I. ME. MYSELF.

I like being Me. Me doesn't mind it. Probably because I and Me are the best of friends. Me says I can be her anytime. I let Me be Myself as well. Myself is my other best friend. We'll stay like that forever. I.Me. Myself. No one can do us apart. I.Me. Myself. Forever. Others, my enemy, told Me that 3 best friends is not possible. But together, we'll prove Others wroing. Have you realised what I, Me and Myself make together?
We!

Unity is Strenght.

P.S. - Apologies! I was sitting there in some 'Mt. Abu School' for my FIIT-JEE entrance and getting so bugged with everyone around me. Figures, doesn't it?

DISHEARTENED

It's Aanchal.
Sshe says she doesn't like my blog name.
Nor the title.
Nor the template.

THE 2 SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

Okay....so I'm back to it again...Songs and poetry and all that crap
Probably it bores you to the limit but, hey, this is me and most of the time, I ain't so much fun.
So even if you don't like it, go ahead, read it 'cause that is the only way you'll coment
Here goes....

She's looking up in the sky
And shaking her head
Only one star left to try
And then the night is dead

He's looking up in the sky
One bright star overhead
Everyday it tries
And one day it'll taste success

The milk spilled on the floor
On the mud and it'll sink
All of it's going out the door
Link by link

The milk spilled on the floor
More for the cat to drink
So much less to store
So much less to think

CHORUS
Think about the bright side of life
Though there's night where you're standing
It's day ouside
And when everything crawls back in place
It just gave you time to think
Think and praise

She's standing in the rain
But she's thinking of the clothes left outside
The droplets drop and pain
You couldn't survive

He's standing in the rain
Thanking it for all that it made right
Thinking about his lane
That didn't have water for nights

She's running away from problems
She can't face them no more
She doesn't have the strenght to solve them
She's turning into stone

He's thinking about his problems
Sitting now, to solve them out
'Cause he knows he can solve 'em
Take some time and that's all it's about

CHORUS
Think about the bright side of life
Though there's night where you're standing
It's day ouside
And when everything crawls back in place
It just gave you time to think
Think and praise

And she's crying
But he's laughing it out
She's not trying
But he's hanging around
She is running
But he's holding on
She won't fight it
But he'll try till dawn
And again

CHORUS
Think about the bright side of life
Though there's night where you're standing
It's day ouside
And when everything crawls back in place
It just gave you time to think
Think and praise

DISAPPOINTED

There's this pressure.

It's just there. There are people all around her. She's looking around for someone who might just understand that she's mediocre. Her marks have started showing it. But they won't accept it. Ever. All she wants is for someone to come, hold her hand, hug her and tell her that it's fine if she doesn't do well. That it's not that important. But she's built up the atmosphere that she's in. She likes it when people say she's intelligent. Only, she can't live up to it anymore.

She's struggling. But they're pushing her forward. "You can do it", they keep saying. "You can"

But she can't. She's not that smart. Why do people think that way? Then there are people who are doing the same thing and are so good at it, that she's pushed to the background.

She's trying. She's trying really hard. But it's too high up and they think she can jump higher. They think she's not trying as hard as she can. But she is. She knows that. And it's hard to see that they don't appreciate her, just because she can't do it.

But it's difficult. She's trying to cope up, but she's slipping away. She's trying, but there is sweat on her hands. She wants to hold on to it, she wants her moment, but the outcome is not what she desires.

People want to know if she is putting in her best efforts. They say no. She can do better.

She's trying but nothing is coming out of it. And then she falls. Falls all the way down. She's screaming, yelling for help, but they're just standing there, shaking their heads.

"You didn't do it", they say. "You disappointed us."