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Friday, August 12, 2011


The plastic bag.


Gently, I go where the wind brings me, for he is my master and I am his slave. He often has moodswings, but I like them.
They make my life meaningful. Interesting. Less monotonous.
And when I reminisce over moments when I was useful, I float in the air. I was useful.

Till I got used.

Tore a hole right through me.
And now, painful silence as I watch my life pass me by. I carried your burden when you couldn't. Now, you've found another.

Discarded.

But the wind, oh the mighty wind, takes me places the others would never see. Though I am wounded, I enjoy. I don't want to start again. Nor do I want this to end. All I want, is for moments like this to last.

But they never do, do they? One day, Master will get bored of me. I will end up being recycled.
Like I never existed. But who would be concerned?


For I am nothing. But a mere plastic bag.


With Love,

Me, me, me, me.



PARVEEN :)
14 September '93.
Singapore.

Who?


Hey. :)
Masterdebater. (Read it wrong at first?)
Queen of nostalgia. I'm gay like that. :)
Pretty tough to crack, I'd like to think.
Socially awkward at times.
I love sarcasm, humour and optimism... Or do I?
Life's too short to get upset all the time.
Grammar Nazi, guilty as charged.

Pretty well-developed moral compass. Try me.
I admire sarcasm, intellect and brains, but I get awfully lame at times.
Still waiting for romeo.
(I know right?)

YBlack and white.


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YTalk to me.






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