I wish I had someone to explain to me, This dichotomy of life, when I was still young and budding, That we are to tiptoe along on a trembling string stretched unto destruction since genesis. I wish I had seen the flowers through shredded petals, and made sense of infinity with a pinch of salt. And believed more in this line in the sand, that awaits the ebbing froth of the sea. The sand in thy hourglass, how nimbly it empties, Your imprints burn away till the incantations of time turn an opulence of mass into a void worth intangible energy. The flames of your pyre devour the memories of when you exulted in seeing the face of your child for the first time. Reiterating the entrancing narrative of trepidation, our search for verity remains in the cradle of eternity. While I keep asking the stars for the last twenty years, How do they escape the ordinance of this universe, Whilst you were made to relinquish your rights to life, leaving behind a broken wife and a child who knew nothing about the static of being mortal let alone its untimely smite.
Make me listen, while we gasp for one last breath, Remind us of all the morbid things we inflicted on you, Preconize your verdict, that we'd be delivered unto our fate. We stand hopeless now, humbled before the derisive cold in your eyes, We're too skunked in this battle to afford the truculence as to ask you why? But if you could, please justify your reasons to the convicts, before we drown in your deluge, let us be aware of how you loved hearing the terrors in our voice, just like we had been eating away at the green, you yourself sowed across your chest. Tell us, how we poisoned the air in your lungs, with toxic chemicals that kept us steady on our way to preponderance. Coerce us to admit, we reek of rapacity, That we're conceited, rancorous, fallen from grace. In the name of our luxury, we dug holes across your skin, we made you feverish, So, you've decided to deploy your troops, to avenge your waterlogged heart till we all become obsolete. As I struggle to write this tale of your crusade, only in this moment, hundreds of us have already exhaled the last breath. It's hard to reckon the bounty of this sublime fete of hatred, Who's the bird of prey now, when the mother herself begins to lash out at her children? Maybe in time, tragedy becomes a statistic, But I'd never understand how did this redressal reflect your grace for the ones amongst us for whom luxury was a myth, who contributed the least to your pain. Why did they have to pay the heaviest price, when all they had been doing was fighting for survival on the streets all their life! before they succumbed to your invisible war-machine without knowing a trace of your intent.
It's been around 6 months that I've been a part of this family, and I've been blessed with 2k readers now. Ninth cloud is nothing, I am flying over the clouds of infinity. This one goes to every person who has ever laid eyes upon my work. Help me spread this to all my readers, please? ❤️
First of all, thank you for taking out time to read this, because every syllable of this piece belongs to you. I wasn't a writer when I began but you, you turned my scribbles into masterpieces. The spark was there hidden in me which could just give a hint of light but your blow of zephyr of appreciation and support has made this fire burn in me. And the flames still pierce your hearts, don't they?
With every piece I penned, I slowly, gradually, eventually started falling for you. Because in this vast ocean, I was a lonely fish until mermaids like you made me feel loved. I was oyster, but you discovered the hidden pearl in my soul. With every fiber of my being, I owe you my development as a writer.
Writer's block is the worst thing that can happen to people like us. It is like drowning in the sea of immense emotions and feelings, yet all you catch hold of is water. You weren't the life boat that came to save me then, you are the ones who made me swim, who let me paint that silence on the waves so even the sun sets to have a taste of it. And you'd just smile waiting at the shore to praise me for my work.
My mom always used to tell me that angels exist in heaven. You made me wonder if I live in heaven because I hear from you angels everyday. Angels have no specific genders, they are just like the butterflies who flutter their wings adding magic to our lives, leaving the trails of pulchritude behind and filling our lives with iridescent hues. This flower owes you the nectar of love.
Your beautiful words of appreciation have always increased the worth of my writes. It's like I make chocolate flavour ice-cream yet your chocolate chips make them taste better. I write not to let out my pain, or to let go of my feelings or to enter a different world or to lead another life but to reach the hearts of everyone who reads them. I write for you.
Everytime I write something, I think about you, will they be inspired through this, will they smile on reading this, will I be able to teach them something. It's all about you and a li'l about me.
Isn't it funny how everytime I let my feelings out, you, who are sitting probably miles away, can feel it? For a writer like me, your smile is my victory. I may be the rose in the garden, but I am incomplete without the protective thorns as you. You may not enhance my beauty, but you make me who I am.
Thank you is too small a word to suffice my feelings for you. Only if I could mix the elixir of love in the ocean and let you all have it, maybe you'd know how much I love you. And if someone asks me who inspires me to write, I'd always say my readers, because they are the key to this treasure of talent I possess.
At last, I'd just like to say, stay, please stay. I promise it'll be worth. Keep showering me with your support and love and I promise to cast a rainbow of my writes that'll make your eyes gleam with compassion.
Yes I'm not perfect... Yes I am flawed Yes I'm not perfect... I never was. Yes I'm a liar... Yes I'm a cheat Yes I've done my share of mistakes... Which I never wish to repeat. Yes I've hurt people... Yes I've shattered trust Yes I was a fool... Even a slave of my lust. Yes I'm imperfect... Every letter of that word But is there a person who is perfect... That you've ever heard? People are not perfect... Yet how many of us accept flaws? All hiding their own sins... And judging others based on society's laws. But in the end you and I are the same... Cut from the same cloth, Looking for acceptance... Among people who are already flawed. Do not fear judgement... Even when your insides are being torn Because there are people out there who will love you... Not for your roses but for your thorns. Because even if you are flawed... You are not incorrect You are worthy my darling... And remember... That two flawed make a Perfect. ~D~ @writersnetwork@readwriteunite@mirakeeworld#pod#flawed#perfect