Blog Archives

Poems,

My Pen

My pen might be my greatest asset.
It might be the reason for my present state of mind.
I’m not in my senses, I’m not out of it either.
This pen explains me; it explains my hike
It defines me; it’s my best friend
Look at me, eulogizing this lifeless inanimate
But it’s the little things that matter the most
Here I am, with this three-dimensionate
But it’s the little cracks that tear us apart.
Really, grateful to words I am
(22 March 2012)

Poems,

Prisoner of Words

Imagine a wordless world
Imagine waking up every day, speechless
Because the words we utter haunt us
Taunt us, daunt us and torture us
Now, I’m not even saying anything
And yet you hear me with that voice in your head
I write, lest I become a prisoner of my own words.
Incomplete, erase.
(22 March 2012)

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