The day 1 and 1 made 3

It was a day I would remember

I think it was somewhere in December

I got up, struggling to my feet

But I felt wanted something to eat

I saw toasts kept in front of me

I counted them very carefully

But I shuddered when I finished the count

1 + 1 = 3 was what i had to count

I could'nt make out how was that done

But this was not a matter of fun

I pondered hard all day 

Whatever come come may

I counted my own eyes

And my own ears

But what I got was full of fear

1 + 1 = 3 was what it turned out to be 

And that took out the lights off me

I almost fainted that day

I decided to ask the teacher that day

But she said that 1 + 1 = 2

But every time I got the result as 1 + 1 = 3

I had three hands, three feet

And moreover three toasts to eat

And then in the night

It dawned upon me 

Now I need not fight 

Because now, I had realized that 1 + 1 = 2 

It was nothing but my horrendous mistake

A big,enormous and huge utterly mistake

The biggest in my life

It seemed like I had slipped on ice

I still laugh when I remember the day

When 1 and 1 made 3..

The Signpost

There hangs the creaky old signpost

It's there for almost twenty years or so

But it seems to look like a transparent ghost

People just pass by it,come and later go...

With sticks in their hands,

Held close to their mouth

clutching their hair strands

and talking to someone from the south

There hangs the creaky old signpost

Its there for almost twenty years or so

But it seems to look like an invisible ghost

People pay no heed to it come and later go...

But deep inside,they're annihilating themselves

Just like a brook makes the sea bigger

They're causing peril to their own self

And pursuing the grave-digger

There hangs the selfless old signpost

Its there for almost twenty years or so

But it looks like an unheard ghost

People hardly bother to see it,come and later go...

Later,the devil will rise to its throne

Their will power won't suffice

They'll struggle,until it'll be grown

Soon,they'll be awaiting their own demise

There hangs long lost old signpost

Its there for almost twenty years or so

But it seems to look like a not-so scary ghost

People just enter,come and later go...

Inside the building where its hung,

Lies the epitome,he's been there for twenty years

Paying for the smoking stick he'd flung

But he-the owner warns his dears

He doesn't want others to face the same fate

And pass through the hell's gate

There hangs the dead old signpost

It will be there for twenty years or so

It will still look like a faded ghost

People will ignore it,come and forever go...