Cleaning out my Closet

Shikhar Singh
4 min readJul 29, 2021

So I received a notification on my phone today. A 4 year old Samsung M20, or was it M10? Does not really matter, to be honest.

“You have reached your storage limit of 64 GB”.

Yes, I’m a peasant.

I looked through my phone to see what I could delete, and came across some cheesy poetry I wrote when I was in my feels. Mind you, I felt really good about these at the time, as if I were a philosopher of the highest caliber.

Looking at them now, it is all but certain their destiny is oblivion, also known as the recycle bin.

But before that, why not regurgitate some of it here? Why must I be the only one that cringes.

Here are some of my best (or worst) :

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What’s the joy in a victory, if it wasn’t a losing battle,

What’s the pain of defeat, if not ,when felt at the zenith of mirth,

As he stares them dead in the eye,

Enticing and eluding, the poles apart,

What’s better than meeting them both, with a smile on the face and a fire in the heart.

What’s won, what’s lost ,men will soon forget,

A feather to add , a past to hide.

And at the judgement ,the age old foes, reconcile,

They’ll abandon a man they once seduced,

He now drifts along the river of time.

You’ll praise him, you’ll snide, you’ll revere him, you’ll spite,

You’ll ask him to choose,

“Go on , pick a side”,

He’ll show you the scars, etched in his very being, emblazoned with a glistening pride,

“These Battles, these battles are all that are mine”.

A bargain with death (I tried to be really profound on this one….yikes!)

He stood on my doorway with an unnerving patience,

“You’re time has come to pass, he said”

Death seemed more pleasant than his fickle cousin,

“Good Sir, you’ll have to this offer, forget”

“You’ve stayed beyond, you’ve sinned, you’ve lived,

You’re stories are now meant to be read”

He seduced my will to follow his path,

But then struck a thought, “Sir, hold on” I said.

“I’ll make you a deal, my beautiful reaper,

I still have the fire burning me red,

I have to cheat you a thousand times before,

I welcome you, with open arms instead”

He chuckled at my foolishness, and retreated,

Looked to the Gods, shaking his head,

He tipped his hat and bode me farewell,

How could he kill a man , who could bargain with death.

I went inside, knowing the deal had been struck,

The battles would be harder, the days tougher ahead,

But next time I see my old friend again,

We’ll go in peace to a new beginning, with a smile on my face and my story will end.

The Man in the Mirror

If you could see the sunset now,

If you could feel the breeze again,

Would you look me in the eye,

Will the sparks burn bright again?

You used to say we’d be alright,

Reminiscing causes a shiver,

You looked up and cast a woeful smile,

As you lied , blatantly, to the man in the mirror.

Your words do not mean a thing,

Your longing, you wish would cause a dent,

To a resolve so strong, so insurmountable, for even an angel,

That God himself , had sent.

And when all hope is diminished,

When the gentle night ,covers the chaos within,

A single tear echoes in the darkness,

The softest sound, yet the sharpest din.

I wish you all the courage,

I wish you colors , rays erupting from the black,

A mix of pain, pleasure and pride, have faith in the lord , for a day will come,

When the man in the mirror will indeed, smile back.

Falling

When he was struck down,

At the center of his soul,

So began his tremendous fall,

With a smile he fell, fate had played her role.

He fell through his charm,

He fell through his calm,

He fell through his childhood ,

His fall not broken, even by the mother’s arm.

He fell through the days under the sun,

He fell through the nights, when the songs were sung,

He fell through his trust, He fell through the pain,

He fell through the man that he thought he was.

The chasm loomed below him,

Devoid of light and daunting ,

He surged below with a tremendous pace,

All hope to save him, left wanting.

When he entered the darkness,

The light that greeted him , burnt the brightest,

He shook of the dust , a tear accompanied a smile, The fall destined to murder,

Had risen him the highest.

No, I’m not an emo teen. I’m a grown ass man.

And Yes, I have a thing for rhyming poetry. Sue me.

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