As I hold the pen,
My world seemed to change.
I was able to create a world of
Those unheard words.
I was able to give words life.
The thought, the imagination, the pain,
The emotions,
Everything was coming to life.
I started feeling that I was free.
The world I created,
I can be in it.
But the happiness lasted only
For a short while.
Now those words that I create,
Haunts me.
The thoughts that were given life,
Haunts me.
The imagination which was painted,
Haunts me.
The pain which was suppressed,
Came back,
To haunt me.
Now every single word wants to
Come out.
Every imagination wants to come live.
In all this,
I'm forgetting my true self.
I'm playing with words,
But in actual,
The words are playing me.
Their speed in my head is not letting
Me live.
They are haunting me.
They are...haunting me...
• • • • •
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BROKEN WINGS || √
Poetry"Just let yourself be free cause even 'broken wings' can fly away!!"🕊 You shot and I fall but I promise I will rise. Rise above you and rise above all with my broken wings ------------------- So friends let's set on a poetic journey Of flying in t...
