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Opinionated Head

BY NIHARIKA JAISWAL

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Peace

Sacredness Of The Simple Pleasures

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Noises of life have replaced the sounds of the night, the ticking of watch and swishing of the wind drowned out by the cars passing by, their honking, people talking, someone’s playing music, dogs barking, and that sound of construction. It’s an up and coming area, if you listen carefully during any time of the day, you can hear the sound of ongoing construction.

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Within

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I see people scowling and screaming
Raging and waging war on others,
Angry at each other or something else
But most of all angry at themselves.
They need to win a fight, any fight.
With whom, for what, it doesn’t matter,
It’s not about wrong or right,
It’s about the fight,
A way to take the anger out,
The anger that’s burning them inside,
The anger at nothing and everything.
Continue reading “Within”

How To Not Be Lonely Together

So often so many are so lonely
In a world full of other lonely people,
How is it even possible to get so lonely
When everyone wants to find someone
How do they not find each other?
I guess I know how.

Strutting around like the studs we are not
Looking to find someone who understands us
While never really showing who we really are,
We each hiding in our own special closet,
These closet of our fake identity behind which
We are all alone, humanity becomes a lonely species.

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When I Swallowed​ The Warm Yellow Pill

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I swallowed a warm yellow pill today,

It went down my aching sore throat,

Like a soup made of warm love,

Soothing, caressing, easing the pain.

It filled my chest with the sun shine,

Clearing the cold cobwebs of winters,

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Free From Myself

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I tried pushing the walls,
Bruised my knuckles on locked doors,
Broke my back trying to move mountains.

And When I was completely broken,
And when I gave up all control
All illusions of control,
When I was free falling,

The wind lifted me up
Like a feather, I was swaying in the air,
flowing and swirling with the wind,
flying with the wind.

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The Fight of Right Against Right

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With a towel tied around his neck
Like a cape, he flew.
He fought the monster he read about
In fairy tales, when he was feeling blue.
He rode his imaginary horse and waved
His wooden sword like a white knight.
He was going to be a hero, a savior,
He was going to fight for what’s right.

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Coming Home To you

Writing letters to home

This morning I woke up So full of joy
Yet feeling so light, almost weightless,
Flowing in the air unmoored from the floor
like a feather or pollen or music or perfume.
Surrounded by chaos and precariousness
Yet so perfectly at peace
At the thought of seeing you soon,
At the thought of returning home to you.

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