My love walked a thousand steps Through jagged hate and crooked sex. My love saw life in its toughest form, And yet chose me . I was new and feeble; just born. My love walked a thousand steps, With bloody feet and anxious fret. My love saw the entity in its creamy flesh and curvaceous form, Yet I was the one and at entity he yawned. My love walked a thousand steps, He attained the real sight, Yet he turned and for me, he squandered his light. I looked away not able to handle, His sight and his touch; wasted on my youthful wrangle. My love you walked a thousand steps, Go further, don't wait for me; I am but a muddy sample. I'm an obsession you cradle; A dirty, melting candle. My love, your journey cannot end with me; Leave and then you'll be able to see, You are blinded by your vanity; In love with mere toxicity.

Vasundhara Singh

Those wrinkled hands, Those pale lips, That feeble grip, Those gummy grins, Of three years I haven't seen, You had held my little frame, You had pushed me to fame, You pulled me out from the darkness, You poked me with your cane every morning. But I wasn't there, I wasn't ready, To see you go so early, You were to stay forever young, We were to stay forever us, I forgot you were human too, I left. You died; I couldn't even say goodbye.

Vasundhara Singh

I have no pain to feel anymore, No qualms to solve anymore, No reason for this life anymore, Oh what is the truth for this life? Why can't I move forward, for i have taken the billionth step? Why can't i see green when alive? You say, " for that you shall have to die!" Why can't i feel love and see it too? Not just from sons but daughters too! To feel numbness is worse than pain I need to draw blood Give me the whack of your scythe. Could i see life with spirit eyes? Why do you shake your head? Is it frustration? But you smile, Is it amusing? I am so confused. The scythe! the scythe! Harvest me, And give the real sight.

Vasundhara Singh

Let the oblivious labia set the primitive meat free, These four walls within which we coerce our muscles, While in pain our souls screech. To the lord above, Thier moans beseech. Help them oh blessed one, Before hell they reach.

Vasundhara Singh