Another Scar to Fulfill My Destiny

I have scars on my hands.

Scars which the world may deem ugly.


But to me they mean power.

They define me.


“How did you gain these scars?” you ask.

“It’s a long story for a very long day.

Not one for today.” I reply.

His curiosity doesn’t seem to be satisfied.

So, I add, “These scars mean only positive things for me.”


He seems to have accepted my response.

At least, he shows that he has.

Except his eyes speak a different language.

Is it curiosity I see in them? Or is it anxiety?


However, we are here,

At this ridiculous coffee shop for an interview.

Honestly, it’s all a business to me.

I reassure him, “my rough hands mean only good things.

Things you wouldn’t have never explored before.

Territories that have been unchartered till date.”


He says nothing; only looks.

Curiously, anxiously, nervously, eagerly.

I can’t make out.


I need to work on reading him better.

That’s going to be a necessity

If I work for him.


He has a basic list of questions.

The usual.

However, his eyes seem hungry for more.

More detailed information.


I tell them, ‘Not so soon, there’s still time for all that’.

Once our contract is signed,

Hunger will be thoroughly forgotten.

I beam with pride as I think that.


He does his part swiftly.

Signs the contract and pays the bill for our coffee.

He don’t seem very happy

Besides I don’t care for his happiness.


I am finally living my dream.

I have fulfilled my lifelong passion today.

A passion that has given me another new scar today.

A scar that will let me live out my destiny.



I am lost.

I am frail.

I feel like a rabbit,

But with no tail.

I haven’t lost my memory

And I’m sure I don’t have amnesia.

It feels like the road I earlier chose,

Has somehow changed it’s course.

I sit on the bench in a garden.

The day is perfect; not too hot, not too cold.

Yet I think to myself, who am I?

Do I know?

I know my name, my age and my memory is definitely intact.

Though mysteriously, my mind has erased

Everything I dreamed and hoped for.

I don’t know what I like anymore.

And my dislikes have shunned my path.

Everything seems the same.

It’s all completely plain.

Have I lost the passion in me?

Or even worse,

Has it been completely sucked out of me?

I used to life on caffeine.

But I don’t even give it a second look anymore.

My mind was a workplace of creative labourers,

Today, it’s a desolate factory with a deathening silence.

I haven’t scaled mountains,

Or scoured the mortifying valleys of life.

But I do remember a sense of peace and happiness

In my earlier life.

I think to myself,

Am I dead? Is this how death feels like?

Because I sit alone in an empty garden surrounded by joy.

Yet quiet, melancholy and still.

I remember life being a race.

A game of taking risks

And eventually winning it all.

As I sit here by myself, I realize.

It’s time to take that fall.

It’s time to grow once again,

To renter the world of mortals

And conquer it again with my smile.

Challenges of Passion

It’s time for bed.

Time to say good night.

My eye lids strain to stay open

As the clock chimes twelve times.

I feel aches in my body

My bones creak with fatigue

Yet the night seems young

The silence has become music.

It’s the time for dreamland

And that’s where am headed.

With eyes wide open

And the caffeine of imagination.


Writing is my passion,

I love it with all my heart.

It overcomes every pain

And nurses me back to imagination.


I have heard once,

It’s essential to sacrifice to achieve anything.

Tonight, I sacrifice my slumber for you my love,

For you give me dreams and challenges of passion.