Of Faces & Punctuation

A full stop on the header
Eyes underlined
Ears holed with comas
Lips, highlight!!

Selfishness is not one of the 7 deadly sins

I am beginning to be selfisher
And loving it all the same
I do not wish to give up my
Hard earned opportunity game

Why should I be generous
Isn't that an inflated virtue
Why should I go around
Helping people through and through

People usually try to appeal
Your moral values they question
To help others they say
Is a beneficial obsession

I am obsessed only with
Walking towards my dream
I wasn't sent on this earth
To ignore that lighthouse beam

Everyone is supposed to
Play their respective roles
Runners do not stop to
Quicken a fellow runner's strolls

A Samaritan I definitely am
But before and after the race
While I am running on the track
I look not at a needy face

Her Purse's Womb

She was facing herself
In front of the mirror
But she wasn't herself
Or, or, was she?

She was tense, her whole body
Hair yet to be managed
Eyes yet to be outlined
Lips yet to be moistened

She wasn't looking beautiful,
She was looking terrified
She was looking vulnerable
She was worried, but about what?

Lest anyone should see her
Catch her in that situation
In the process of creating her facade
Her face to the world, the incredible art

Why many women are such?
So afraid of facing the world
So used to the secrecy of a washroom
So cocooned in the make up tools

What makes them this way
Hustled to look 'good' with a comb
So hurried and harried they run
And fumble in the purse's womb

Pauses

I tend to be often blinded
I stop and start walking back
I forget what I exactly wanted
My reigns then slip and slack

An uneasiness perturbs me so
I get up quick with motives new
From time to time, hour to hour
I feel a new lease of power

But it lasts only some hours few
And settles deep into the dark
Like sediments in water soiled
It dies a death of  plans foiled

I wish to gain that command over me
So that I move continuously on
Do not stop at hurdles trivial
And do not cringe at problems menial

I wish to soar high above
With thoughts, dreams and wonders to view
I wish to write my history all
Without the pages missing true