For When You’re Sad…

It creeps up on you when you’d least expect it,

Like when you’re feeling incredibly snappy,

And suddenly WHAM! you find yourself in tears,

The broken shell of a girl once happy…

You attempt to get away from it as fast as you can,

“Think cheery thoughts!!” You desperately repeat,

But your brain refuses and, instead, hurtles abuse,

“You’re a FAKER, you BOASTFUL CHEAT!!”

You struggle to escape from the taunts of your mind,

By sobbing till it physically hurts,

“I can’t take it anymore!!” Your tired mouth,

Your poor, tired mouth finally blurts.

And it all seems a bit too much to bear,

The burden straining your exhausted mind,

And through all the torturous trains of thought,

You think of the girl you once were, the one you left behind…

She seems so far away, that girl,

That feisty, girl, so carefree,

She seems three worlds away, that girl,

Hard to believe she once was me…


And It’s A Six!!

Our lives are rather like test cricket!

With their batsmen -and their bowlers, too,

There’s space for more than the talented,

The intelligent, selected few.

First, there are the batsmen,

Or the extroverted lionhearts,

They walk onto the pitch with a confident air,

And inspire us to break out of our parts.

In real life, they’re the revolutionaries,

The leaders with ideas galore,

They teach us to see things differently,

With perspectives we haven’t tried before.

And then there come the bowlers,

The lethal masterminds!

The fate of the game’s in the flick of their wrist,

Their intellect leaves us far, far behind,

In real life, they’re the introverts,

The quiet-but-phenomenal ones,

They change the world without a hue and cry,

And limit the “batsmen’s” runs!

And, of course, we have the fielders,

The support, the family, the friends,

They pick us up and dust us off,

And tie up our loose ends!

How can we forget the coaches,

Who train the above three,

‘Til their arms ache and their heads throb,

But they can throw/hit/catch perfectly?

Of course, they are our parents,

And our influential teachers, too,

They correct and guide us when they ought,

And then set us free to see our own lives through.

And then, there’s the rest of us,

The spectators on the stands,

The insatiable, picky critics,

And the crazy, star-struck fans,

We can strive to be the next Bradman,

Or be satisfied in our place,

Whatever it is, just remain calm,

Remember, none of it’s a race…

And -above all- remember,

That there’s a chance for new beginnings,

Because just when everything seems lost,

Commences the second innings!!