It's midnight, all lies, all venom, all pity rises to life again,
Somebody has crossed all boundaries of sanity;
Somebody's been labelled 'absurd' again,
Somebody's the fresh tragedy.
They chose to vanish without a trace, without a goodbye;
But I think, I know why people die.
Somewhere beyond the warmth, peace and safe doors of one's abode,
Lies a broken shell of a woman, flesh torn and soul dismangled;
Someone gasping for breath, wanting to explode,
Their life a Web of deceit, hope a distant dream, and their core a meaningless tangle.
No arms to run into, none their eyes can meet, nobody heard their cry,
Sometimes, even when just on the inside, I think I know why people die.
Somewhere hums somebody's inner child,
the beloved, aspiration embodied,
Self, lost in the chaos, beaming eyes, their voice now a crushed rattle.
Heaving shoulders now life-less moulders,
their innocence drugged,
A graveyard of numbing pain, lost hope
and broken dreams is what's left of their battle.
I know what, between life and violent guitar strings lie,
I think I know why people die.
Somewhere somebody's years of penance flows down their cheek,
Despair masked with delicious fragrance,
shadows dealt with, with angry utensils and a knife.
Eyes of ambition now with the offsprings' burdens reek,
Their identity? Somebody's daughter, somebody's sister, somebody's wife.
When beings shudder into fragile pieces and they raise a question "why?",
I think I know why people die.
Somewhere when the city lies asleep, breathes into his pillow a man,
His entire existence, a string of unsolicited advice;
All self replaced with blame, authority and in times of need, " Be a man!"
His chest, a creeping hollow, his body a mere device.
When power is validated and hidden remains his deep sigh,
I think we know why people die.
Between daydreams of victory and dangling onto cords of hope,
I think we've all been there, done that, many a times.
Between achievements we desperately cling to and vulnerability we deny,
I think we know why we did; All of us died.