It howled at night in the pitch-black jungle.
It wanted to spring upon its prey,
Upon hearing the prayer.
Oh! It was a calling.

It possessed the man to commit the act.
The possession is real, oh, it's true!
The urge is real, the thirst too.
He's a conniving man now!

He turned towards the moon and smiled.
He pulled his claws and wings out,
And flew towards the moon.
Oh, the beast it was.

He got hold of a branch and moved forward;
Branch by branch and tree by tree; 
Moved till the end of the trees.
At the sight of lotus pond.

He stretched to grab the flower he loved.
In the water, when he saw himself.
Astonished, at his reflection.
For the Demon he was.

All along the way, was I always a demon?
Is my bad myself as the good is me?
Am I demon to act the thought?
Is the good thought-not-act?

He growled and cried for his own reflection.
The guilt killed his mind, ah, the tears.
The appearance too; unwatchable!
Turn me back! He growled.

But can he? Or will he change the act done?
The devilish deed and demonish greed.
The wantings of urge and pure need.
Now he is all the demon's feed.

The demon jumped out, sprung out from him.
Left him crying at the pond, laughing hard.
The man on his knees, crying out loud.
But would he know it left?

Would he ever again dare to see in the pond?
Could he ever have a glance at himself?
Will he realise that it was not him?
That it was the demon.

And the demon? Just part of his mind's jungle.
The one that hides and attacks when called.
The actions! It possesses them hard.
The thoughts however, not!

It is the thoughts that call it out to act open.
The man could have controlled the call.
But did he? He gave himself to it.
He sold the soul to the demon.

Now he gets what he asked for, the eternal guilt.
The burden of the thought; that unasked act.
That could have passed away; the thought.
But it did turn into an act.
The unforgettable.
The un-passable.
Quite natural.
But still is,
Not-allowed!
Is never.
No, No.
No.
I belong to Mary garden,
The garden of beautiful roses,
Many are red, while one is white,
The red roses thought the white is special,
The white thought she didn't have the colour,
Every time we all grow a flower,
The gardener comes to take us all over,
He took many red, but didn't chose me much,
I thought I was not just upto the mark,
I grew flowers and then they die and fall,
No use of me like all the red flowers,
But fortunately, I was always treated equal,
Gardener loved me, he always kept me special,
I wanted all that red roses had,
Put in the normal ground with all the crowd,
Little did the gardener knew I was lonely,
He always thought I was charmingly lovely,
Neither he allowed anyone to touch me,
Nor he gave me that regular treatment,
For all I knew, I was just getting loner,
A few red roses loved me for my charm,
Then there were many that totally hated me,
I started growing weak with all that in me,
Mentally and physically, I was falling apart,
The gardener tried saving me,
But the poor didn't knew it all,
I am just a plant and I will die like all,
I tried to make flowers but I failed always,
Growing innocent that I will grow one day,
My little red friends also believed in me,
Always pushed me to get that extra mile,
I didn't want to disappoint anyone,
Pushed it harder to every ounce in me,
Unluckily for me, I didn't knew my power,
Either it was a boon or just a ban,
I realised I shouldn't have tried to know it,
When I didn't knew, I was "The White Rose,"
After I know it's all just a prose,
I died in the process just trying to bloom,
Now that I am dead, I can see it clear,
Dumb that I thought, I was the only white,
For now I know we are all coloured different,
Different and Beautiful, all over mesmerizing,
We all be born and die some day,
We all are treated equal and special,
You just need to see world from a different view,
Then you can fly and be out of the blue,
Wait the story isn't over! I did that too,
But how did I die, wasn't I supposed to live,
The red roses as I call them are all alive,
They all saw themselves normal and didn't reinvent,
or I was just a fool to think I could be any different

I’m sitting in my small compressed room,
But my thoughts are going like boom.
Scrolling through texts on my phone,
Feeling like I’m in a place I don’t own.

I have a lot of emotions and want to share,
I really doubt that anyone would care.
I feel numb and start thinking of what is next,
After a while, my phone chimes and there is a text.

It’s from a dating app, and I got intrigued,
It is a girl I liked a few days ago and I’m excited.
I opened her and profile and it has no pics,
I gathered the courage to type my first words.

I want to talk to her but have no words,
There is music in my heart instead of beats.
I decided to talk to her by sending a text,
I had no courage and thinking of what to do next.

After some time, I sent her a “hello!” and was very nervous,
She read it, started typing and I got curious.
She sent me a “Hi” and that’s the best feeling ever,
Suddenly the compressed room isn’t gloomy anymore.

We are texting almost every day and it’s awesome,
It feels like my mood suddenly had a happy blossom!
Everything about her was perfect and beautiful,
Every slightest text or update of her was blissful.

She told me I’m the honest guy she ever met,
It felt like I’m looking at a beautiful sunset.
The compressed room now became a colourful one,
My happiness and joy for this are now second to none.

I started developing feelings for her and decided to confess,
I got the fear she might reject and my heart felt a little distress.
I finally gathered the courage to confess to her,
I hoped she would accept and we would be together.

She smiled at my message and replied “YES”,
I fell into a life of never-ending happiness.
I didn’t know how she looks and it doesn’t matter,
She came into my life and made it way better.

We are together and for me, it is a great success,
The compressed room became, a heaven of happiness.

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