Irfan Habeeb A M K

Your silence is a wall
That I cannot break through
Your words are a drought
That parches my soul
...

Through the fissures of the ancient gate
I hear the echoes of the bygone days
I hold the relics of the faded age
I stitch the fragments of the lost page
...

The world speaks
But only whispers
Inaudible to the restless
Only the still can listen
...

I crave a spark of optimism
A flash of brightness in the gloom
Of our land ripped by conflict and rage
Where doom is the common doom
...

Sometimes I act, and then I rue
The choices that I made
Sometimes I freeze, and wish I knew
The chances that I trade
...

I do not waste my breath on those
Who clash for faith or creed
They spew their lies and hatred, but
They do not have my heed
...

The sky, a canvas of splendor
Unfathomable in its glory
I gaze, and gaze, and wonder
How it tells a silent story..
...

I used to stammer a lot
I used to hide my voice
I wanted to speak, but I could not
I had no other choice
...

A moment of self-betrayal
A fracture in the mirror
A harder fall than any other
A lesson learned in tears
...

I came back home after months of study
Hoping to find some peace and rest
But my room was cold and void of life
As if it had been long left
...

We were the flowers that never bloomed
We withered in the storm of violence
We lost our petals, our fragrance, our colors
We fell one by one, like raindrops of blood
...

Dream not, for dreams are fraught with hopes..
Hopes are fragile things that break and bleed..
They rend your heart, your mind, your life in ropes..
And leave you nothing but despair and need..
...

The pulse of life, I hear it still
But fainter than the days of yore
It ebbs and flows, a sluggish rill
No longer swift, no longer pure
...

A mass of pressure
A pulse of will
But barriers of uncertainty
Confine me in a cell
...

Let's break the walls of obstinacy
And speak the words of truth
How do you have the wisdom of age
And I have the folly of youth?
...

I saw the sparkle
in your eyes—
a glimpse of daring,
a glimpse of infinity,
...

Leaves whispered their goodbyes,
slender branches and trunks followed,
a heavy thud as they touched the ground.
...

Do you understand cringe?
Some loathe it deeply,
I wonder why?
Does it bite them, unseen?
...

I've met those who spurn
Dreamers and wordsmiths.
They label us as losers,
Mere souls who smoke and write.
...

They ask me what I believe,
and I tell them, I don't know.
But inside, I wonder—
is there a storyteller?
...