Abandoned

Escapism

The Lover watched him as he exited,
leaving her in the coffee shop–
the silence is in its loudest,
but she needs to play pretend;
so she took a box of tissues
and started rhyming out her issues–
"Oh well," the Lover said,
as she rewrites their history,
she's mending all her heartbreaks–
one by one.

The Fool has outgrown his circles–
hometown folks and college friends;
he felt alone amidst the parties,
they talk of things he couldn't relate to;
so he took a notebook from his bag,
started scribbling things, he felt worse–
"It's over then," he said,
taking baby steps to cut off them;
he's planning to move to another city–
slowly but surely.

The Wise Man ran out of light
as the city witnesses his darkest night;
he used to be the brightest in the class,
but finds himself wasted in a downtown bar;
so he lit his kingdom into piles of ash,
write a memoir if they will ever be found;
the next night is empty and full of clouds–
The Wise Man changed his name,
he tears down his star,
and walked amongst the mortal crowds.

I look through shades of blue
in these beautiful places;
my parents are unsure
if I'll ever make it
but here I am writing poems–
writing it down to you;
I was once abandoned, my heart was broken,
enraged the gods – you won't understand it.

But here I am, and I will always be,
my poetries' some sort of escapism.
Sadness and pain are intertwined in my poems,
and what is mine once is now forever yours.