♥♪ჱL!fe Through My Eyes♥♪ჱ

Image from: here   Heads turn around when I walk. I bend down, Giving them a good show. I tie my hair up, My neck revealing my availability,  Open shirt buttons Screams-  ‘Come get me’. Legs hitched up over the table, Smoke coming out within my red lips. All eyes on me, Well, who wouldn’t want me! People surround me. Boys want to get in with me. Money I have, The assets- plenty! The day passes, I smile all through it. But as the dark approaches, Lonely I start to feel. A home I haven’t got, Love never came to me.. Looking at my reflection, I don’t recognize whom I see. Tired I feel, Lost I totally am. If I cry, Who’ll hold me? The world spins, As I inject some more life into me. Slowly I drift away.. To a world, Where I believe I’m meant to be.

Source: shyaanspoems.blogspot.com People are selfish, and we are foolish. When we realize this, too late it is. We are already used,  And the person- gone. The world is unfair, and we are like its puppets. Before we realize this, the evil gets to us. Dead we feel. Lost we become. Many try to put us down, and yes they do succeed. Not because they have a mastermind, But  Because of our loser hearts. Cry we can, give up like we always do. But why? Try to come up, What is there to lose? Strong we are, We just need to believe. Puppets we are But you can always cut the strings!  Dance to your own tunes, Faith- Have in you. Afraid- you mustn’t be. And watch how you come up, if you have the right will. People are selfish, and we are the biggest fools, The world is unfair, and we are its puppets.. But why dance to all of it? Make your own beats, Strike the right chords And make a life of your own. A...

Image from weheartit.com I quickly wear my clothes and wrap myself in the shawl I always carry around. It is late. Way late than it always got. Samuel hands me the money as I walk out of the door.  Its cold outside and the lanes are empty and quiet. The clicking of my heels is the only sound I hear. I wrap my arms around myself tighter. I clinch the money firmly in my hands as I walk faster. My phone does not stop beeping. It’s him.  I don’t answer. I have no answers for his questions. Or maybe I do. But they aren’t the ones he’d take in, or the ones that I would be able to tell. The phone does not stop ringing. I switch it off and dump it inside my tattered bag. It’s torn and dirty, just like I am. Maybe I’ll soon buy a new bag now that I have some money. But can I replace myself? I don’t blame him for calling. He’s worried. Well, he would be because of my disappearance of every night. But then, I can tell him nothing. We are both from two different worlds and t...