And I don’t know what to do with myself

It’s been about me and myself lately,
Am I just too selfish a person?
Nah…this is just trying to escape somehow
From this difficult introspection
And I don’t know what to do with myself now …
May be I am really a loner
But I do like having people around,
The laughter and noises that come with men
Yet sometimes, I do feel lost in the surround
And I don’t know what to do with myself then …
May be I want to be a gypsy
Hopping from people to people, places to places
Every day brings new friends, every day brings a new den
But a night brings the memories of the old faces
And I don’t know what to do with myself then…
May be I have learnt to be indifferent
Not letting anything get too close to my heart
Coz I have lost too much to lose again
But then I feel love, see a new start
And I don’t know what to do with myself then …
Why is this? this strange unknown indifference?
What is this? this constant inexplicable aversion?
I know this will end one day, but when? When?
What if that too is a moment of confusion
And I won’t know what to do with myself then…

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3 Responses to And I don’t know what to do with myself

  1. Rujuta says:

    hey muli,
    really nice posts!
    amazing compositions and thoughts!!
    keep blogging 🙂

  2. Nikhil K says:

    Hi Muli,
    The best reply to a moving beautiful poem is another verse. I am not as good a poet as you are, but I am more widely read :). So, looking deep into my memory, I dug out this long forgotten poem, which had affected me deeply, when I was in school. Written by Charles Lamb, one of the better Romantic Poets, somewhere in the early 1800s. Its title is “The Old Familiar Faces”. I hope you like it.
    I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
    In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days–
    All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
    I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
    Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies–
    All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
    I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
    Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her–
    All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
    I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
    Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
    Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
    Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
    Earth seem’d a desert I was bound to traverse,
    Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
    Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
    Why wert not thou born in my father’s dwelling?
    So might we talk of the old familiar faces–
    How some they have died, and some they have left me,
    And some are taken from me; all are departed–
    All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

  3. Anonymous says:

    Deep!

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