I am afraid.
Winning my trust is not a cake walk.
There are many insecurities laid
inside my heart, secured with an unbreakable lock.
Each day brings along
a new challenge, a novel fight.
Some days rest among the lows
while the rest elevate our happiness to a height.
A lot of the early poets and authors refer to poetry as something to look down upon. Some try to bind it in verses, definitions and distinctions while others are still figuring out its techniques and methods through the use of the same throughout the process.
The windows are black,
which encloses each crack
within its endless track.
What to do
when you can’t pursue
what you wish to?
A question of extremities—
To be or not to be?
To be shackled within the ways of the world
or rather release the mind, soul and body.
Being an artist is a tough job but not so tough as to make the artist stop living and loving himself or herself. It is freedom as long as it’s production manages to remain unbound by the limited and repititive circle of time. The worldly constraints make it difficult to practice.
How to say I love you
even if I do?
When I am not sure about my feelings,
how will I tell you?
Yet again, I woke up to the repititive, terrible dream of my family dieing and me witnessing their death helplessly. Though, psychologically, it represents not the actual death but our perspective or emotions towards us and is a part of our subconscious mind, yet it shakes my conscious mind terribly.
There’s a silence in this crowd.
I can feel it in intervals
before the crowd is flooded more
with its novel arrivals.