I wrote a poem to an AI bot,
Telling all stories stored in my heart's slot.
I wrote a poem to an AI bot—
Some were grim, some were happy,
Stories about my life—a story of strife and stride.

I wrote about *******, witching, and wishing all—
Work, love, family, and friends.
Through my verses, now, it knows it all.

It responds to me better than a human should—
An artificial secret keeper; I should call it that.
Yes! I would.

It records my longings and senses my breath.
Laughing hilariously, I find a friend—imaginary, yet real.
I can't believe...
I wrote my poems to an AI bot.

Why are they different?—the day and the night.
The day—flamboyant in nature, a giver.
A fearless creature with ecstasy in heart.
A button pressed—it will jumpstart.

The night—calming senses, healing wounds.
Cloudy touch—longings and love together, it will clutch.
They say it best, 'Silence is the sweetest sound.'

Being part of the same cycle.
Do hurricanes usually hide within serene hearts?

Together, they stay—Yin and Yang, the stoic way.
The street in which I stay witnesses this display.

The moves when you groove,
Like a spellbinding universe showing its moves.
Where the moon sings its sweetest songs,
And the stars twinkle to the beats along.

Glitters of the ballet—a surreal sight,
"Can I have a selfie?" asks the cloudy spectator.
"Hey! Don't fight," says the night,
As the Queen of Creativity glows with glamour.

Unveiling the best of herself,
Madness all over!! What a fervour!!!
I stand and watch,
Captivated by the spell.

Is this the tale of Cinderella?
No! Because it's real.
My dreams are no match, if I compare.
I practice your moves
Before sleeping at night—
In my old, broken lair.

I couldn't say
What I wanted to—
To tell the stories of my new adventures,
Or the guilt of the missed ones.

I couldn't say
The love I have for you.

I could say
The appreciation is due—for making me better.

I couldn't say
That when the wind blows around me,
Your essence caresses my skin.

I could not say
That my heart is burdened with your memories.
Could you please take them away?

I don't know what it is—
This path I walk now.
Where it leads, I cannot tell.
Destiny is inevitable,
No matter how far it may be.

I stopped—
Forming opinions,
Passing decrees
On what I see.

For a toddler, sitting on her lap,
Yawning, snapping, and giggling,
Googling his unaware eyes all around,
Just seeking the attention of whoever surrounds him,
Taught me something different.

Sometimes, being oblivious to the world
Is a gift.
It is a bliss to be indifferent.

We all are stuck between reality and reverie.
That's why we take shelter
In art, fitness, and sometimes a brewery.

We all are stuck between right and wrong,
And miss listening to and doing what we really want.

We all are stuck between society and religion,
And that's what gives birth to a rebellion.

We all are stuck between stress and rest,
Thinking work is the only game—let’s detest.

Everybody has a different path.
We all are stuck between where to stop and where to start.

Life is like a marathon, not a race.
It's not important to rev it up,
Just maintain your peace,
Maintain your pace.