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Piyush May 14
The beauty of sky
Lives within a lie.
The beauty of love
Is touched with gloves.
The beauty of truth
Isn’t found in fruit.
The beauty of goodbye
Is wrapped in a lie.
The beauty of lie,
Sleeps inside a die.
Piyush May 10
The curse of not being chosen,
A heart that remains unbroken.
A person who wants to fly high,
But can't even say a moment’s goodbye.

The curse of being alone forever,
Not even able to spell her name together.
What a drag this life has become,
Is it worth it, or should I succumb?

The curse of being forgotten,
I wonder how many tomatoes I've got rotten.
Funny, isn’t it?
The writing always tells the truth of myself.

The curse of losing everyone,
Wanna hear a fact full of fun?
Somewhere a heart tries to gain,
While somewhere else, it counts the pain.

The curse of knowledge,
I wonder how people manage,
Living their lives on the edge,
All this just to earn the privilege.

The curse of feeling too much,
Even thoughts of lunch feel like a crutch.
But still, we breathe, we break, we bend,
And hope one day the curses end.
Piyush May 8
Somewhere, promises fell apart,
Somewhere else, a new vow starts.
Someone's heart is making gains,
While someone else is counting pain.

You've found comfort in someone new,
Yeah... I think I always knew.
Your city's crowded, your time too tight,
No space for even a moment’s goodbye.

Why does the world never stand still?
Why does it always go against your will?
I'm at the verge of losing my sight,
Yet I see you there shining bright.

I see you standing there,
Facing the world alone here,
So strong, like you don’t even care,
While I still break with every stare.

My final day is here,
The sky will be bright as ever,
But my dream isn't here,
My life is lost in this player.
"My Life is lost in this player"
Piyush May 2
Always and everywhere,
The man who can speak well holds the power.
And the one who lacks the courage to speak—
Always and everywhere—
Stays lower.

No one knows what he hides from others:
The past,
A future,
Or his own feathers.

A past best left behind,
A future woven with lies,
Or feathers meant to fill the skies.

But what if he finds the courage to speak?
To speak of what was left behind,
To tell a future free of lies,
Or simply—
To fly into the open sky.
"Always and everywhere, the man who can speak well is the man who has the power."
-John Wanamaker
Piyush Apr 30
In a world where power is the
                    government’s rule,
       A boy receives a gift—a power to
                        change it all.
  The girl who grants it, a force beyond
                             control,
  Her gift will shape the future, but at a
                       cost she’ll call.

"To **** you...
Was that my fate?"
He questions, seeing
The final state.
"You lived just to die?"
He asks in pain.
                                        Yes, my life was
                                         never plain.
"Then why give me
This cursed power?"
                                        To face the truth
                                       In this final hour.
                                       In this world,
                             where ends must start,
                      Life exists to break hearts.
"But life's more
Than just an end!"
It's moments, feelings-
Just to mend.
                                     "No!" She says,
                                 "death's part of light,
                                   Without it shadows
                                    Fill the night."
"You think it's
Wordplay!"
He says with fire,
"Why are we born,
If not to aspire?".      
                                   She smiles softly,
                                   Her truth untold:
                                 "Hope and meaning-
                                   Flickers bold.
                                   To live for death
                                   seems too cold,
                                 But without the end,
                                  Life grows old."
"No, I won't accept
This fate!"
He shouts, feeling
The weight.            
                                 "If you believe in
                                  what's true,
                                  Take my life, it's
                                  Left to you.
                                  Strike me down,
                                  and you will gain,
                                  Change this world
                                  From joy to pain."
But then he spoke
With his eyes so deep,
Words that woke her
Up from sleep:
"You don't have to die
To be free,
Your the reason
I still breathe."
                                  Her gaze softened,
                                  A tear fell free-
                                  In that moment,
                                  She chose to be.
Ahhh, what a drag.
Still, it’s an incomplete piece.
Hope you like it.
Piyush Apr 27
Born with nothing in my hand,
I stumbled into this land—
Once a dream,
Now swallowed by chaos' stream.

Here, three things stand:
War,
A gun,
And death’s command.

A war for broken minds,
A gun to silence signs,
A death to erase a name—
And still, they smile at the game.

But I refuse to live this dream.
I seek a place beyond the screams.
Isn't it funny, to hope and cross,
For peace inside a world of chaos?
Piyush Apr 25
Born with nothing in my hand,
I stumbled upon this place,
Now I hold what silence sends—
A loaded gun, a pen that bends.

Love songs echo, cold and done,
No battles left that I have won.
The ground beneath me slips and slides,
I dream of stars where silence hides.

Why must each tale end with me?
Why not begin where I could be?
This mask still clings—it will not fall,
But I can't ****.
I hear the call.

I hear it speak in quiet halls,
A voice that echoes off the walls.
It tells me, write, or lose it all—
The pain, the love, the rise, the fall.

These pages show the things I hide,
The tears I've wiped, the times I've lied.
The gun is cold, it stays with me,
A shadow of who I could be.

They say the stars are born in fire—
But I was shaped by lost desire.
Not joy, not hate, not something grand—
Just silence I don’t understand.

So still I write, though none may read,
With heavy hands and quiet need.
This mask I wear, this war I fight—
This is my truth.
This is my night.
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