Next time you call my name
it might not be me who turns back
to look at the caller
and instead of a smiling face
with surprised happiness written all over it
it might be a frown
an annoyed face at the coincidence of a similar name
for being called by an unknown person
at the jostle on the streets
For when you call
I might not be here
cause next time you call my name
it might be someone else, to replace me.
Next time you ring the doorbell
It might not be me who opens the door
to greet you with a hug
for the neighbours love my mother's homemade pie
and it might be a bearded guy
or an old lady
To replace my presence in the house.
A dead presence is always unwanted
and I might not be here
Cause next time you ring the doorbell
I might be long gone to heaven.
Next time you send me a text
it might not be me who replies
cause you get angry whenever I type slow
and instead of waiting for an hour for a reply
you might have to wait a lifetime.
The path to heaven is solid
and too hard to resist
So next time you text me
I might not be in the other side
typing fast to go back to work
cause the world revolves fast
and someone else could take my place easily
Without anyone noticing
Except a filled grave.
Next time you call me
It might not be me who picks up the phone
for numbers are tricky, we both know that.
They are hard to live with
and a small mistake
lets down an empire.
So the next time you call me
I might not be the receiver
scoffing at the disturbance.
Cause disturbances are very common these days
and someone else might take my place
to pick up your phone call
and hear you speak
while heart stays shut
echoing the pain it keeps hidden.
Next time you talk shit about me
it might not be me who cries
after hearing it
it might be a weeping parent
or a devastated sibling
coming to their daughter's home
to hear of why their sweet child
decided to make another hole
in their world.
And of course I will get replaced
and so will your words
For the moment I got the ground
your words turn sweeter
if only I had proved
that there would be no next time
maybe then would the world
treat me like someone
who cannot be replaced.
-Nikki Gautam
it might not be me who turns back
to look at the caller
and instead of a smiling face
with surprised happiness written all over it
it might be a frown
an annoyed face at the coincidence of a similar name
for being called by an unknown person
at the jostle on the streets
For when you call
I might not be here
cause next time you call my name
it might be someone else, to replace me.
Next time you ring the doorbell
It might not be me who opens the door
to greet you with a hug
for the neighbours love my mother's homemade pie
and it might be a bearded guy
or an old lady
To replace my presence in the house.
A dead presence is always unwanted
and I might not be here
Cause next time you ring the doorbell
I might be long gone to heaven.
Next time you send me a text
it might not be me who replies
cause you get angry whenever I type slow
and instead of waiting for an hour for a reply
you might have to wait a lifetime.
The path to heaven is solid
and too hard to resist
So next time you text me
I might not be in the other side
typing fast to go back to work
cause the world revolves fast
and someone else could take my place easily
Without anyone noticing
Except a filled grave.
Next time you call me
It might not be me who picks up the phone
for numbers are tricky, we both know that.
They are hard to live with
and a small mistake
lets down an empire.
So the next time you call me
I might not be the receiver
scoffing at the disturbance.
Cause disturbances are very common these days
and someone else might take my place
to pick up your phone call
and hear you speak
while heart stays shut
echoing the pain it keeps hidden.
Next time you talk shit about me
it might not be me who cries
after hearing it
it might be a weeping parent
or a devastated sibling
coming to their daughter's home
to hear of why their sweet child
decided to make another hole
in their world.
And of course I will get replaced
and so will your words
For the moment I got the ground
your words turn sweeter
if only I had proved
that there would be no next time
maybe then would the world
treat me like someone
who cannot be replaced.
-Nikki Gautam
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