From The Quill

 I put on your favourite dress,  Rouge and lipstick  Everything the way you like.  You say you are lucky to have me.  I put on my smile,  A laugh aloud or a giggle,  Speak of my opinion and ideas,  Asking for my rights.  And suddenly, you don't like me anymore.  Why? © Suranya

Memoirs of unwritten verses,  Waiting to find the words;  Feelings of unrequited longings  Couldn't be put on paper.  A dream trip you never took,  A half-done hobby or a book,  A few scribbles,  A friendship  Without a closure to comfort you? Do they matter at all? What troubles our nights? In the hollow emptiness of your mind  The sleepless soul asks in an echo, "What are we? Who are we?" An accumulation of particles  Forming a shape and mind,  Floating insignificantly in the universe  Loathing in superiority and pride. © Suranya