Salt And Ink

A cocoon of misery

A cocoon of misery,

Entangled in the shackles of hate,

Of loneliness,

Of jealousy.

There goes the hunk of the class.

The stuff of 'girl talk',

The epitome of style,

The symbol of glamour,

Of good looks

And panache.

Wherever he goes,

Whatever he does,

Or doesn't do,

Whoever he talks to,

However pathetic his jokes be,

Those girls just can't stop giggling

At his jokes...

...or at me?

I turn my head away-

Can't stand his stupid antics.

But his goggles and her giggles

Don't go out of my mind.

No, they stay right there,

And torment me,

As the 'stached ringmaster torments the bull,

With a red piece of silken cloth.

I turn my head away-

And whom should my lonely, desperate gaze rest upon-

But the specky, witty smart guy,

Clad in striped t-shirt and cap

Covering his curly hair,

Talking to the girl I crush on!

I stare at the perfect pair

One has the perfect body, the other, the perfect brain

As I hang my head in shame,

And walk out of the class

The college- the country- the world...

Making a solemn vow

Never to be seen again.

I remember ever so vividly,

The glorious days of my school,