Painful profound!

How profound it is,
To love someone,
You have never met.

The painful profound,
Y’ll can conjure up memories,
Of those hasten lost loves,
The ones You wish you never lost.

The lustful intensity,
The feelings of high,
Those delusional fantasies,
The one you escaped on ecstasies.

For people,
You’ve never met,
And you may never meet,
The People who reflects you back on your heels.

In the midst of 2 am,
When the world is at Its hubris peace,
I glimmer under the layers of quilt,
Of the embodiment of emotions that I have built.

I dedicate this to all,
From, insomniacs, like me,
To the stories we have read and seen,
And the characters we have made our beings.

Painful profound!


-Naba Mehdi.

Too young to be depressed.

I am too young to be this depressed.
What am I, 16, 17, 18?
What do I know?
What hardships have I seen?

My life is all but merry.
What has yet Not being provided to me?
They are doing more than they should for me.
If I am not happy. Then it is my fault completely?

Tell you why I am depressed?
I feel. I breathe. I think. I see.
I Have this darkness inside my head.
And there comes moments when it becomes hard to breathe.

I never tell you this?
Because you have enough on your plate,
Because I always feel like I am letting you down,
But you have never tried asking either, have you?

What you once said in an outburst long ago,
I have yet embraced in my heart,
Every night, I recite it to myself,
To keep myself from shinning out.

Yes, I have friends,
And so I have problems,
Miscommunication – misunderstanding,
Exists in my world too.

Yes, I am scared,
Scared of the society,
The same one,
Of whom where you have member seat.

I feel like a dreamer,
Who wants to be an artist or a psychologist,
And some of us wants to be doctors and bankers,
But we teach ourselves to be quite.

Yes, we love you,
Even with all our faults,
We just don’t know how to tell you,
Doesn’t mean we don’t.

The voices in our head,
We try to quiet,
Breathing in our rooms vacant,
We feel like dying.

To feel like not dying,
We reach out to suicide and self harm,
And cigarettes and alcohol and drugs,
To get to another day,
Because, in reality, we don’t want to die.

We dream big,
We want big,
We want ourselves to be big,
We want to share a big verse to this world.

So yes,
We are depressed,
We May be young,
But, we are just as depressed as you.

-Naba Mehdi

Survival instincts.

What do you call survival?
Surviving a plane crash?
Sparring alive from a blast?
No. None of these.

An Unidentified labyrinth,
You seems to have stuck Unto,
An Audience in the air,
And you screeching for help.

They keep on starring,
And you are scared to death,
You give up hope and scratch your head,
‘I need an Out’, you whisper to yourself.

You stop at an open out,
A breathe in,
Closing the eyes,
You Jump in for it.

On and on you fall,
You open your eyes,
The Abyss is your fear,
You close your eyes again.

There is darkness all around,
You are scratching those purple walls,
The sounds are killing you,
But the enemy is you.

On and on you go,
Nothing to soothe you,
You hide under the quilts,
Finding your escape in your sleep.

But when the sun next shines,
You hold on Tight,
To all That inside of you,
And try to move with the outside world.

The thoughts still cross your head,
To do it once and for all,
But you dismiss the thought,
Because you want to survive the storm.


-Naba Mehdi.

A hidden sanctuary.

Once upon a time,

There existed a land,

A land echoing of brilliant creatures,
Those creatures, born of an innate sanctuary.

Those people knew it not though,
Of their sacred work place,
For they were worshipping in places of stones and brick,
Yet, within those cranium walls, rotting were their brains.

That land has been divided,
Into amongst Various rulers,
For the thousands of years that it had been reformed,
Kings and presidents had been elected.

The Creatures of this land,
Thought themselves as unique and different,
Kind And selfless, smart and intelligent,
When they were none but ignorant and opposite.

They all prayed to different Gods,
And cursed the other Gods,
Yet, no one realized,
Of the One similar God within them.

They seized to look for God in nature,
when they started placing love in everyone but God,
They would blame the society for Being unfair to them,
Yet, their presence would be felt present in the same society.
They were lazy and selfish and wild and murders,
But all claimed to the victims of all.
All this has had happened,
Because they ignored the sanctuary of their heads.

To them all, all their Gods,
Gave a power hidden In a sanctuary,
They couldn’t see, For it was within them,
Burdening with the weight of what the eyes would see.

That sanctuary was a Magical place,
With the power, to conquer anything and anyone,
The means to find, why had their God sent them to this land,
Always bulging with The aroma,
of feelings and ideas and thoughts,
But because they refused to believe in magic,
They ignored their beautiful sanctuary and the God within them.

-Naba Mehdi.

A hidden sanctuary.


At the road in the far eastern side,
she wandered around aimlessly,
Numbing her heart and her mind,
She fell atop on a stone.

That is what people look for now,
Depressed, she fumbled up there,
For she was free and not free.
She was free to what she wants,
Yet, she was aimless at what she wanted.
What she was, was painful,
And the people around Her were not,
They were all happy and merry,
Even in their Aimless states,
Which worried her above of all.
How could people be?
How could people be, so aimless,
Aimless at what they want,
For what they need,
Trashing away all the things they are.
She looked upon the sky,
There were paths she wanted to be at,
But they were too many for her to be at,
She Stood up atop the wall,
And said,
I am all these things,
And the things that make the universe.
I will not go by aimlessly,
For I have a verse to contribute to the world,
And Thus, she was not So aimless so more.

-Naba Mehdi