CARVING MYSELF – Neha Sharma

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I wish to carve myself.

By way of appearing same,

As it is as I am.

I wish to drop a line on stone,

But, I get in touch with scrap.

Everything engraved are just fragments

That deserves to get thrown away.

 

In spite of everything,

I wish to shape figures of my heart.

 

Extremes are off these days,

And the whole lot is normalcy.

It gets its rank in expressions,

But never in cores and epics

However, passions penetrate deep down to the cores.

 

A spirit of extreme passions and incidents,

It yearns for.

With no extremes,

What will I carve?

Everything is just fragment,

That deserves to get thrown away.

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MY STEPS – Neha Sharma

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Should I move forward?

Lots of ways out there to pass through

I am about to take a trip,

But I do not work out to take steps.

Barely do I change,

I stick up for my position in confidence.

Lying down, I let this season pass by.

 

I visualize demanding moves.

I picture out its every distant dream.

Sketching all my imaginations,

I look ahead to step forward.

I speak up to believe myself.

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On the contrary,

I foresee space for another line.

Trouble-free, a simple one

Offering liberty, I take pleasure in travelling.

I do not find myself on this road,

Inventing luxuries, the hard-hitting move designed for me.

 

I route my age positioning myself,

On the same page,

From where I was about to take a trip,

I didn’t work out to take any step.

I let all seasons pass by.

Till time will trace my rhythm to travel by

 

FATE FELL SHORT – Neha Sharma

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I set my heart to be a warrior,

By myself, on my own

I am under my own steam.

I am by all means a lone voice.

My fate fell short,

No one knows what’s there in the stars.

This time, I am in a terrible mess.

I blow up everything to pieces,

Trying to protect from the attack.

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Upright at heart,

I am a little demon.

Coming out to rescue,

I blowout and upset everyone.

I pray for peace,

Turn everything in chaos.

Flashed with madness,

I lose all control,

I end up in tragic days of war.

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To save one’s neck from my blow,

By myself, on my own

To be under my own steam,

To be at peace,

I am by all means a lone voice.

Here my fate fell short,

No one knows what’s there in the stars.