She was once a poem. Beautifully composed and Tuned to perfection. Not long before the verses Became lines, Lines became words, And words became sheer secrecy. The beauty of silence is one that engulfs The soul and embraces the emptiness. Hallowed out. Heavy hearted. Haunted till eternity frees thy from its grip.
If only I had the power to change myself. If only I had the power to change you. These ifs stay as ifs as if only those ifs exist.
Existence… yes. What does it mean to exist? To exist… in one’s body? Mind? In the soul itself? Each takes on different forms. A different spirit. Each requires losing those you never thought you’d lose. Each requires love that is dipped in glitter. Oh, you’d think it’s gold from afar. This is what it means to exist?
Existing in its most basic form is first cries at dawn and funerals at dusk. This is existence? Yes, my love. Existing is far more painful than the pain we inflict on ourselves. It is such that is inescapable and unbearable...
Lying in bed, unable to rest She knew the way to go To the place of tenderness In which she completely gets lost wandering clumsily, When the actual world is out of sight
Lost in life everyday Lost in love , lost as a person When she can't find her way. She gets herself lost happily in comfort, in her favourite writers mesmerising words.
Once, When boredom hits , her mood swings sucks When life turns out no more sweet She thinks of quitting from her so called home But as an excuse she always found Penning out the hearts gave her ease. But the warmth filled writeups , those poignant lines Those amazing not known humans deliver That was her forever reason to stay
There was days when she was late, Late again to read the master arts "I've made this mistake. I should have checked it or atleast stayed alert " Her mind screams , blaming her for the not so serious loss.
That densy forest, she soared happily Though the trees were barely seen Those still fresh memories This very minute Why does it all seems to be an illusion!!