• fallen_42 6w

    Writer's block

    I am too aware of my wrongs
    As aware as a mother who knows her child's fragrance
    I have been too bad at too many things
    A daughter
    A sister
    A lover
    But most importantly a poet
    I have no way to hitchhike anymore with metaphors
    Or stay at mud houses made up of those goodbyes
    which didn't stay enough for a closure
    But met again at circus of life
    Gave a partial hug
    And moved on with their worn out voices
    Towards their celebrations of new stories
    As if I was never there
    Less as a poet
    More, a human
    Which might prompt the question
    If poet isn't a human too?
    To which I have just no answers
    But a poet doesn't let the pain pass away without turning it into a poem
    Pain is an opportunity
    But today I just want to feel and let it go
    Like shivers from an earthquake
    I am too aware of my wrongs
    My mother fell ill and I didn't ask her how
    My father made the dinner and I didn't ask why
    While I slept
    I kept sleeping
    As if nothing in the world could nudge me back to awareness
    I am too tired, a poet with no story to tell
    I am nothing
    I am nothing
    I am nothing
    Just like I was at my birth
    So I take the vehicle that goes nowhere
    And tell the directions to it
    All my life I knew it by heart
    Where the chasm ended
    And I end with it tonight
    In my sleep again for twenty fourth time
    Call it a night
    And wait again for alphabets to reunite in my dreams
    Until I can write a poem so serene
    It convinces happy people to die
    Atleast once.