Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

You think a man's worth is measured by what he owns, then tell me what comfort is money when you break your bones? It may buy you distractions to avoid the pain that you feel, but when life has ended, it's no longer real. Everything is impermanent, from the house that you live in to the clothes that you wear, at the end of the affair, it's only beauty that remains. Take life by the reins, renew your spirit and remember your purpose. Lust after things that better your life, as opposed to those that cause others strife. Money may buy you freedom from stress, and what you have mistaken for a mind full of peace. The latest technologies that are one of a kind, but a newer version will always be released. It forces you to keep up or get left behind, watching helplessly as your greed is increased. Beauty surrounds you, I see it in fleeting moments, dancing amidst the corners of your smile. It may take awhile for you to change, but anything would be better than this life ...

Your eyes are deep and reflective, as fiery as the majestic sun. My planets all prostrate towards you in orbit, yet I still feel as lonely as the number one. I ventured to the poles in search of a cure for my isolation. At night, I look to the sky, and I can only see your constellation. The stars align above the world and hint to me that you are the one. The beauty I feel as a result of you, will never be outdone. For some reason that I cannot explain, your name courses throughout my veins. It sends shivers up my spine, validating that your love is truly divine. Like a black hole, it devours me whole, refusing to give me a moment to catch my breath. If you were to fall under harm, I would sleep for two and forty hours, just like Juliet. Even if I was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, yours is a face I could never forget. All the charades I played at with others before you, were just a prelude to your kiss. I feel as enchanted as a fairy tale, as I embrace our never ending bliss. Like a s...

You abandoned me as I needed you most, like a terrible host, your presence was eerily similar to that of a ghost. I envisioned our future, so bright and crystal clear. I gave you all my fortune and time, as if my name were Lear. Instead you jeered, you could have been the Josephine to my Napoleon. You took the time to tell me that our love was too plebeian, that you were through with me. And my effort had gone unnoticed, it was to no avail. I felt as helpless as Jonah, buried alive in the stomach of a whale. You were once my triumph, the trophy I carried with pride. You took it all in stride, and denied me of love at every opportunity circumstance would provide. You once called me precious, as you took my hand into your own. Gone are the days when I welcomed the scent of your cologne, now reminiscent of rigor mortis in a corpse unknown. We were the talk of the town, once as brilliant as the sun setting in the west. I was the one that loved you best, yet you chose to turn the other chee...