Vivre En Moi

If you heard me out,
You’d know of people new
The naysayers,
The ear buzzers
The liars and their squires.

If you saw me through,
You’d see the pain anew
The weeping heart,
The oozing soul
The tired act of my mind mired.

If you talked to me soon,
You’d know of pain accrued
The nightly gaze,
The daily faze,
The steps of daze and cliches.

But if you lived with me true,
And didn’t bid me adieu,
You’d know of my ability to reveal,
To feel, conceal and heal,
Truly with all my will and zeal.

– Funadrius

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Main Yahaan Aya Hoon

मैं यहाँ अपने आप को खोजने आया हूँ,
उसके शहर की एक शाम चुराने आया हूँ!

मैं यहाँ अपने गीत सुनाने आया हूँ,
उसकी शाम मे एक पल बिताने आया हूँ!

मई यहाँ अपने ख्वाब साकार करने आया हूँ,
उस एक पल मे ज़िंदगी जीने आया हूँ!

मैं यहाँ अपना मॅन भरने आया हूँ,
अपनी ज़िंदगी मे उसके रंग भरने आया हूँ!

मैं यहाँ एक मासूम होली खेलने आया हूँ,
उन्ही रंगों को उसके चेहरे पे लगाने आया हूँ!

मई यहाँ कुछ महसूस करने आया हूँ,
उसके चेहरे पे गिरी बारिश की बूँदो को निहारने आया हूँ!

मैं यहाँ अपनी प्यास बुझाने आया हूँ,
वहीं बूंदे उसके लबों से पीने आया हूँ!

– Funadrius

Inner Hounds

My night is a friend of the slinky moon,
Which hides behind the dark clouds.
Warm summer winds caress my face,
As I stand trapped in the concrete canopy.

The residual peace is unmatched within,
As a savage storm brews in my guts,
My conscience threatens to rip apart,
Like huts ravaged by Poseidon’s wrath.

Behind me I hear dark growls;
And I turn to see fiery, red eyes.
The hounds have found me at last,
Fear, Pain, Hate, and Envy on my trails.

Fighting them was my one soul purpose;
Which I bravely let forego eons ago.
They’ve been chasing my smell since,
For destroying me is their sole purpose.

If I run I survive, if I stop I perish;
The hounds’ hunger heighting me hell.
But tonight they have me cornered,
Outnumbered, outsized, out-thought.

Fear looks hungrily at my guts,
Drool dripping down his fangs.
Pain measures me up patiently,
Checking if I still have some fight in.

Hate is restless, wants to eat me alive;
Yipping and snarling at my every move.
Envy blocks my escape routes,
Essentially trapping me and my fate.

Yet they won’t attack, much to my surprise;
As if they’re awaiting an order.
As if there’s more to this pack,
A leader, most ferocious, I realise.

A new, loud howl pierces the din,
as a new yet familiar beast enters the fray.
Larger, bulkier and hungrier than any;
The Wounded Pride enters the melee.

This is it, then, in a wild night;
Me fighting my inner direwolves.
This is how it ends, I thought;
Gnawed and eaten by dire wolves.

First, Fear snaps away at my guts,
Pain lunges for my throbbing heart.
Hate tears away my long gone head,
as Envy like always, holds me back.

But Wounded Pride will not join in,
For it is not his job to kill.
His job was to sire the four cubs,
Via his beastly ways with Lust.

Conquered me, finally, they have;
Ripped by Fear, Pain, Hate and Envy.
Yet, keenly finished by Wounded Pride,
But truly killed by an insatiable Lust.

– Funadrius