My passionate flame is reignited,
Rekindled.
When I burnt my diary,
I saw the jacinth, red and golden flames.
They are just like the ones inside me.
Ablaze and dancing,
Frolicking, with nothing to worry.
My soul is ablaze like forests of maple in autumn.
Like Pentium magma seeping from the ground.
All hatred, jealousy and anger within me are sullen, worn. It has fallen
Asleep in eternity, never to make a sound.
Complacency was murdered, killed, decapitated.
Mutilated.
She was burnt alive. I saw her skin rip, curl and bleed.
And out came the serpents, the sins and the greed.
I saw her struggle. I muted her lips dripping with gossip and hate.
Too bad and too late.
Sorry haters, but you can’t get me to submit to fate.
I crushed her ghost and snapped her bones.
She will never be coming back.
For I have killed her, with my bare hands.
tazmin
ġham tumhārā thā zindagī goyā tum ko khoyā use nahīñ khoyā fart-e-girya se jī na halkā ho bas yahī soch kar nahīñ royā ashk to ashk haiñ sharāb se bhī maiñ ne ye dāġh-e-dil nahīñ dhoyā maiñ vo kisht-e-nashāt kyoñ kāTūñ jis ko maiñ ne kabhī nahīñ boyā aabla aabla thī jaañ phir bhī bār-e-hastī
