Things that matter.

A poem, you ask?
I sit here and think, wondering what
we are,
when doors are shut
Tight and hard.

Alright, I will come with you for the trippy fight;
also, came with my freshly chewed skin,
All the prose and adjectives are here
We’ll keep them the way they have always been.


Let me give you a guilt trip with rich metaphors
Like the whispers you heard last night,
we’re beautifully demonic; we walk like angels.
A war against the world, you say? would you dare?

When next time you come to fight beside me
I’ll remember everything you tried to shatter,
But my question is , are you here because it matters
Or for the fame that comes later?

Poetry on my skin.

Proud on
shallow connections,
You thrive to earn,
All this fake affection,
Can’t be a good turn.

You ask me to fly,
But I don’t want wings,
My aim is already high,
I don’t need your things.

Your energy
revolves around the greed,
My strength
floats within trees.
Stop suggesting me to read,
I don’t want your aura,
please.

You want me to dive in sea,
I don’t care
about virtue or sin.
Oh dear!
You can’t tame me,
It’s poetry,
written on my skin.

Brown world

Those deep brown eyes
Held my gaze,
He spoke to me
In million different ways.

I have loved blue
But brown felt more appealing,
Galaxies within him
Filled me with feelings.

Those twinkling eyes
Made me freeze,
His scent was floating
In the cold breeze.

A brown world
Took over my senses,
With his eyes
He took away my oceans.