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.

Forgive me for my thoughts,
For they were not kind.
Forgive me for my words,
For they were not true.
Forgive me for my actions,
For they hurt you, though I never meant to.

Forgive me for my dance,
For I learned it for you but never got to show.
Forgive me for my art,
For it was inspired by you when I should have let it go.
Forgive me for my music,
For its tune bound our hearts, yet it made you cry.
Forgive me for my heart,
For it beats only for you—day and night.

I write what feels right,
Still hiding—words are my disguise.
Poetry is just a form,
Like other arts, I con.

I con hearts,
I con songs,
I con beauty—
I con everything that comes along.

I am a writer—a stealer, a thief,
I write what the world chooses to snub.

I write to see that smile—
That embrace of warmth, soft yet wild.
A mere observer, I call it a game,
Bringing the cough up, even if others find it lame.