I recognize a broken soul when i see one.
Craving for affection,
Longing for that touch.
I recognize a broken soul when i see one.
Because,
I am one.

Greed, nothing but a ego,
Fueled by my need.

Aren't we all,
So greedy to recieve ?
Wouldn't it be,
Much easier to live ?
If we were all,
So greedy to give.

All of a sudden,
I'm wide awake.
And i have this urge to share something,
Something i have no idea about,
With someone who i have no idea about.
With no one to speak to,
Hence,
I pick up, my pen.

So much involved with the society,
In the search, for an identity.
I have forgotten my deity
I have forgotten my ability.
Far from calm, i'm feirce & feisty.
So much brutality,
In my personality,
I am fragile & full of vulnerability.
All this calamity,
Just for the sake, of an identity.

Grasping my pen, i ground myself.
I start to breathe as the nib glides across the canvas.
The ink drops, forming lines, curves & more,
Breathing life into the paper,
My heart starts to beat,
giving me a sense of life.
As i form,
Letters into words,
Words into sentences,
Sentences into paragraphs,
As i try to graph, illusions into reality.
Trying to cling on,
To the little glimer of HOPE,
That you provide me NOW & THEN.

Does normal have a definition ?
Or
Is it all, just perception ?

There is a paragraph of emotion,
That i hide,
Behind every "good morning" i text.

There is a paragraph of emotion,
That i hide,
Behind every "good night" i text.

Sometimes i wish,
We could express without words,
Just so you could hear,
All that i fear,
And why i hide,
My paragraph of emotion.