sardonic smile

I being of such a calm nature,
A lover of beauty and creatures.
In all my life had never been tempted to even do the minimal damage to anyone.
That actually means all my life till then,
Yes till that night,
When I picked the knife and cut through the throat of that unhealthy unhappy yet pretentious man.

Pretence is one thing I hated,
But never to that extent.
Let me recap the day and tell you this story.
The day I lie in pool of blood not knowing what to do next.


Tell you about this man.
At days at stretch I saw this man smiling
always with a sardonic smile on his face
A thin plastic smile.

And as I said I always hated pretense.
So the feeling of eeriness started building into repulsion.
And repulsion into obsessed hatred.
Every time I saw that grin on his face.

Although I knew it well the pain this man went through everyday,
Knowing all this I could never find a logical explanation to this pasted smile.
After almost twenty nine years of observation,
I could no more keep the feeling to just myself feeling.

It all started when I saw my beloved in bed with a stranger,
I felt disgusted walked to the bar
got sloshed,
wasn’t able to pay
got thrown.

Managed to get back home,
Felt sick,
Went to the loo,
Puked,
Pissed,
Turned back
Yes that was when I saw the sardonic smile again.
Couldn’t think of anything but to get rid of it,
Now or never.


It would be easy.
I picked up my razor
Pierced it near the left ear
Through the throat and the forehead (with a lump of hair)
Back again to the ear.

It was really easy to peel of the mask,
Once and for ever,
Now nothing lies between the mirror, and me
I could clearly see…
the sad grim expression (as I always wanted to see)
could see…
the eye socket with one eye
the nostrils.
the cheek bones.
But no more the sardonic smile.


I’m now lying in puddle of fresh warm blood,
With the last few breaths to go.
But still I’m happy,
No more the sardonic smile.

the monster

I’ve created a monster,
Now it’s becoming difficult for me to feed him,
I don’t have the courage to kill it.
Since it wasn’t it’s fault,
that I created it to prove my mind.

What should I do,
How should I feed it.
What happens to it.

Soon people will come to know,
Soon people will ask me why,

I am scared of it to die
I’m scared of it to live

Can anybody help me
Can anyone understand my pain
Can u get my logic
Can a u read my mind

He’s so dear
he’s so innocent

but he’s a monster.
He has to die
And I have to live…