The song of fragments
stitched together by memories,
The wound must bleed.
The lasts are more important than firsts
the last word
the last time
the last place.
empty lies on the promise
of better tomorrow.
Sorrow of seconds dissolved in minutes
heavy heart in a discolored room.
It keep coming
in the past, present and future
From wishing on falling stars
to fall like stars.
~🧜♀️
Am I running towards a disaster
or turning into one?!
Leaving, they say, is the
hardest thing to do
and easiest after it’s done.
Finding oneself is a quest
a discovery of superior kind
I’m not talking about
finding a space for me,
but finding me.
It’s hard in all the glory of world
to be less
to want less
For, more is glorified,
more is expected
more is celebrated.
But I just want
to be invisible
in my home
in my room,
in my place of discovery.
Home.
Comfort to some
trigger warning to others.
I know you hate my generation
The self labbed
Woke people
Who are drunk on one side of a story.
I am a generation
The one who is totally
Failing at being what
We’re to be.
You take pride in
Densely packed
nervous buildings
glued together with curiosity,
not hope.
And call this a living.
You and I have
different understandings of home.
I have seen too much of waves
to call shore
As my home.
Maybe we’re just born to love and worry about the people we know, and to go on loving and worrying even when there are more important things we should be doing.
~Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You
There’s this shade of brown
in your eyes
that make brown
more than just brown. You hate your eyes,
for the world
made you believe
Only blue is pretty.
And being a boy
you’re supposed to love blue.
Is what you’re paying worth the cost?
I worry about the way
your words form in your mouth
when you’re hurt.
I worry about the intensity
of your feelings and
I’m scared of the depth
with which you feel.
To tell you the truth,
I love you for the depth
in your emotions.
I’m afraid. Afraid
You’d leave
Am I investing too much?
Too much, too soon?
But I don’t know
how to stop.
How do I tell you
That I love you
and not act on it?
The world is on the verge of dying.
Age old civilizations
are about to fall.
From science to our faiths,
everything is shattered.
Everything is Sea.
Everything is land.
Sky is nowhere to be found.
And
I’m here,
Writing and worrying about you
While there’s a lot to do
To love
To see
To learn.
But I guess, this is what
makes us human.
Makes us, us.
(Image from Pinterest)
Poetry.
Words is general mean so much to me. In one way or another, they keep me sane. Poems helped me in a way I could never express in words (see the irony!)
I read everything I can, it’s the only thing, I think I am good at. Words have always been showing me the immense possibility; for us humans – the possibility of life. I am not a poetry aficionado, to be honest. But what I had read, has moved me to a state of such dilemma, I wanted to turn the world upside down and make it better, for everyone (in my own way).
Poetry made me realise that writing can show me what I wanted out of life. I want many things, but nothing beats poetry. I feel deeply connected to it. The shared appreciation and love for poems have helped me reach where I am right now, meet people, helping me discover communities of like minded people, not just in India but from across the world.
It’s like a bridge.
I’m always thankful to poetry and words.
a.mermaid'spen_ 