I wish ~

I wish to vanish,
In the mist of night.
Vanish to a place,
Outa evryone's sight.


I wish to enjoy,
In a way the birds fly.
With no fear at all,
Fear of getting caught,
Loosing all the freedom they've got.


I wish to ride,
Ride so fast,
Whenever I blow past,
Leaves fly high,
The fellow rider grieves with a Sigh.

Who Are You ?

Cars move on,

People go by..

Some see you like,

they want to know why ?

Why do you exist ?

Whats so good about you ?

That you still persist !!

Is it the looks,

Is it their sight ?

Or is it that you look similar to someone bright ?

Is it the shoes,

Is it the bike ?

Oh ! pls. tell me people, whats the big hype ?

Everyone moves on, sparing a glance at you,

No one dares to talk,

Is it real work they are heading to ?

Or just an intriguing look with a question mark !

Who ARE YOU ?

People..

People walk, they Talk.

People smile, they cry.

They run to compete,

In the race of becoming the best,

A race that would never complete.

Even by killing,

Or sacrificing others zest.

Why can't we be happy with what we have got,

Always taking chances & live in fear of getting caught.

Getting caught saving the money that was never ours,

Even if it was, then you can't take all up the floors.

Floors of death will set you apart,

From the wealth you have managed to get,

And gathered so far.

So y not do something,

That might not be so revolutionary,

A little more than stuff,

That's stationery.

Fast Cars

~ Fast bikes,
I wish, I had one to ride.

Biking became my religion,
Thrill, my God
Strangers my friends,
Roads our house,
We stayed in touch by the click of a mouse.

There's a strange excitement,
When u push the throttle hard,
And see everyone,
Everyone blow past.

For them we might,
We might be bad,
But this is an excitement,
Only a few lucky people have had.

We Need No DRUG to set us high,
A BIKE IS ALL WE NEED TO FLY,
THE ADRENALINE RUSH IN THE VAINS IS SO HIGH,
IT FEELS AS IF U'VE JUST TOUCHED THE SKY. ~

God ~

Sometimes I think,

Y do the eyes blink.

Sometimes I feel,

Am I really real ?

Its then when I realize,

We are all customized.

Customized to his needs,

He/she/it, whom weave never seen,

Some say it exits,

For others a mere concept.