I tried leaving the shores of the murky valley and sail a voyage to the 'isles of daylight' on a pirate ship I crafted as a child with those innocent laughter and smiles (those smiles decided on a suicide in that gloomy land) And I mourned the loss.
I was shipwrecked by those sea monsters, I was thrashed and thrown back on the shores.
So I write, I am writing, because they told me that writing heals some scathed wounds.
I learnt the quintessence of the metaphors that brings a warm sun to the land of frore and snowflakes and snowman to the barren desert. Hoping to chase away this darkness with this quill-wand. I drape my wounded heart in some allegories of those wilted petals that fell in the river of elixir and personify the rainbow with a hope to see my smile again.
The trees keep shedding the crestfallen leaves. So I am carving some of my poems on them. The leaves sail the wind so fine and they shall take them to the faraway lands where I failed to reach. I wrap some pieces of my soul in my poetries and write them over the fallen leaves. I hope.