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An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Troubled

I hate listening to songs,
Hate pondering wrongs.
I hate making faults,
Then absent mindedly admitting flaws.
I hate trusting fate,
I hate as it turns out lame.
I hate moments that I cry,
When someone bothers me with why.
I hate that tears just roll,
Like an evil troll.
When right then spring flowers bloom,
For a false heirloom.
Does it pain to be on the other side,
Or they just carefully pick the safe side.
I hate people who smile,
Underneath the heavier trial.
I hate making up,
Everytime it’s breaking up.
I hate wisdom,
Of island uncanny.
I hate truth,
Just blurted ruthlessly.
I hate sympathy,
Without even knowing what’s it like.
I hate long waits,
With endless traits.
I hate that gone,
Means trudging alone.
I hate being troubled,
Despite being the one gobbled by false hopes.
I hate that’s nothing new..
And I do hate the fact that I can never be you.

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