A Void

It comes.
It goes.
It takes it’s toll.

It creeps.
It leaps.
It buries in deep.

It crawls.
It withdraws.
It tears with claws.

It tore.
It roared.
It left us with sores.

It annoyed.
It destroyed.
It left us with It – A Void.

-Another Mask

Versatile Blogger Award

Thank you Vinay Shankar for nominating me for the versatile blogger award. I am happy that my poetry has been received well by fellow bloggers in such a short span of time.


  • Thank the bloggers who nominated you and share their links.
  • Reveal 7 facts about yourself that your readers probably do not know.
  • Nominate amazing bloggers for the award and provide links to their blogs, informing them about their nomination.

7 Things About Me:

  1. I am a very shy person who is very nervous and often worries about what people will think about her.
  2. The above is one of the reasons why I went for an anonymous blog. Also I wanted to know how my writings will be recieved by everyone.
  3. I am an excellent observer.
  4. Most of my writings are from personal experience or from what I see around me, that is from my friends lives.
  5. Hate hypocrites
  6. I am writing a book and a play at the moment( hopefully will be able to complete them !)
  7. I love theatre and art.

My Nominees:

1. Johnny

2.froggy crochet

3.Bir Yangin Var

In a Dream

I wish we were in a dream,
where everything is right.
Despite the ups and downs,
there is a solution for every fight.

I wish we were in a dream,
where happy are the ending.
Where every work is perfect and complete,
despite being pending.

I wish we were in a dream,
where enemies become friends.
And such friends who help us,
along every crook and bend.

I wish we were in a dream,
where partings are till tomorrow.
Hurt, sad and a little mad
but we are never filled with sorrow.

I wish we were in a dream,
all glamorous and unique.
Where I don’t have to compete with you
as everyone is at their own peak.

I wish we were in a dream,
where I don’t have to wish,
as everyone has everything
and have nothing to miss.


– Another Mask

The Fighter

Help ! Help ! She cried,
and then looked around.
Till her last breath she tried,
to save herself from the darkness which surrounds.

When no help came,
she fought shinning like a lions mane.
And when victory approached,
she held her head high, to uphold her name.

But fate had decided something else;
Fights, trickery and games.
But she was a fighter by heart;
a lioness who cannot be tamed

Victory ! She cried,
trying to grip with her finger tips.
Then finally the shackles obliged, as her last scream escaped her lips.


– Another Mask

In Dreams

Closed my eyes.
As I tried to hide.
From the demons that roared,
who shaked my core.

Soared between the stars.
For once forgot the scars.
The worries were left behind,
along the words sounding unkind.

I sat painting the moon.
Relaxed and singing silly tunes.
Laughing with the wind,
on horses which were winged.

In stories lovely and bright.
Dancing on the sunlight.
Skipping stones in the pool.
Eating under the shade-cool.

Was I the brave knight ?
Righteous, fearless in every fight.
Or the smart, courageous girl
Shining with her excellence like a pearl.

I was the reader of beautiful books.
Ate delicacies cooked by cooks.
Ran along the beach.
Climbed mountains once out of reach.

Flew into the sky.
Undid every goodbye.
Felt loved and was filled with joy.
Relived the innocent happiness, of a child’s new toy.

Oh the demon’s roar Shaked me up !
And the scary monster made me jump !
But I became the brave and scared them away
and continued on my flowery way.

I smiled again after days.
When everything I loved replayed.
The freedom and the fun.
The feeling of hate for none.

I smiled in my sleep.
As I recalled every lovely leap.
The stars, the sun and every beautiful theme.
Which sadly now, come true only in Dreams.

– Another Mask

Glitched Stitches

She sat there licking her wounds, hoping that they’ll heal soon.
She stitched them herself,
needle piercing her skin, thread sewing her together, making her yelp.
She sat there waiting for the bleeding to stop,
freezing it with ice to make the blood clot.
The cold finally crept through and the red stopped flowing,
she sat in a daze unknowing.
Then came they.
The light and dark of her days.
The people for whom she had hate.
The people for whom she cared.
They saw her nursing herself.
Came closer perhaps to see, to help , to wish her well.
They picked at the thread, they prodded at the stitches,
They offered to thread more only to fill it with glitches.
Suddenly they left, closing down the lids,
Not knowing or caring what they left her with.
There she sat alone again,
with all her attempts and precautions destroyed, in vain.
Because She sat once more broken with a bleeding wound
With Uprooted skin, mingled in the ground.
The mangled thread was beyond repair, as she was herself,
Groping in the dark alone, damaged trying to put together her shattered self.

– Another Mask

Smiles or Cries ?

I looked at the person next to me.
How would I know, that he’s the man he’s pretending to be ?
With that perfect grin on his face
and the troubled eyes which so often glaze.

I looked at the person standing in front of me.
How would I know, she’s as happy as she seems to be ?
With her acid scarred face and twinkling, confident eyes
and walking with a nervousness, which can’t be denied.

I looked at the person laughing on the right.
How would I know, that his life is so bright ?
With his booming laughter, as he limps across the room
and the silent droop of his shoulders, which emphasize his gloom.

I looked at the person on the left.
How would I know, she’s satisfied and not upset ?
With her wrinkled hands and wrinkled smile
and the ancient sadness behind her kindness and eyes.

I looked at the person talking on the phone.
How would I know, that he’s so sure ?
With his confident boast of every digit
and the twindling of thumbs, which never stop to fidget.

I looked at the person surrounded by friends.
How would I know that she’s happy and content ?
With her hearty laughs and her pretty smiles
and the little hidden wrists, with slit lines.

I looked at the person passing by the window.
How would I know that he’s not a hero ?
With his accomplishments and his fame
and his habit of beating his little ones, with no shame.

I looked at the person lying on the floor.
How would I know that her shiverings are not snores ?
With her torn mud smeared clothes and half open eyes
and the exhausted fall after her many tries.

I looked at the person marching in the field.
How would I know that his fate’s not sealed ?
With the concern for his loved ones making the cold colder
and the wars responsibility on his proud shoulder.

I looked at the person in the mirror.
How would I know that she’s filled with terror ?
With all the masks like everyone she prefers to wears
And hides the truth, along with her fears.

I looked around at all the masks.
Used by people to hide themselves and their tracks.
So professionally concealed behind those faces,
that it’s impossible to tell whether the face bears smile’s or cries creases.

– Another Mask.