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Aditya Roy Sep 2022
We are victors in a sea of naysayers
We are soothsayers able to the see it all
Change is our ally and honesty is our guide
Step out of the dark, so you can shine in the light

We have the gift of sight in a world of lost souls
We are the blind in the land of the wise too
Art is our calling and emotion is our sword
Here's my plight and passion for a kingdom of dust

I will hold my head high and let my wings outstretch
I will allow my broken mind to heal
At last I will be free to speak up
But I like a bird will follow others in silent flight

That's my curse and my calling
To fly like I have never before
But I have never flown and let my heart be free
My art, my pencils, and my calligraphy

All for nothing?
But this is what I breathe
Aditya Roy Sep 2022
She flips through the pages of her magazine
Cherishes her wine and perfume in the evening
You can't tell the strain she's been under all the this time
You only see the graceful ballerina and not her dances on fire
Aditya Roy Sep 2022
We are writers of emotion
Artists of still life and tinkerers of language
Inventors of metaphor and sculptors of anatomy

Always trying to pursue the essence
Of human existence
We are poets
Aditya Roy Sep 2022
Our love was like
Umm...A Book of Poetry
Beautiful, right?
We were shy like a children, full of tenacity

It sat idle on the window sill
Dwindling to a shell in its last days
As we tore a page from its wrinkled spine
Each time we lost our way

It was for us two, but we read other books
We held our hands under the moon, like others do
And while others could ignite fires by sharing a look
I didn't see the inferno to which I would finally lose you

Now the pages are all gone, the cover is a ghost
I still remember, I was a child who was in pain
While your fragrance, I will miss the most
I have started writing again, a new book, a new name
Aditya Roy Sep 2022
People come in all shapes in sizes
And over time are molded into

Society's standards
Aditya Roy Sep 2022
Kids who get bullied in the alley
In school and kicked out of college
Try making it to a league of good writers
As they learn how to punch the keys and I just bleed on paper
Also, letting out the anger
My dad never drank or smoked
But, he loved me a lot
Maybe, I was a bad kid who never loved anyone before
Because I never was treated well in school
One fine day, I stayed after school
Losing to my friends in a fist-fight
After a few years, I got into psychedelics and misfortune
Kept reading in the meantime
Barely processing all those drugs
Let alone the literature
Soon, I started a career as an underrated writer
Influenced by Hell and it's angels
Talking to myself, and making clouds of thoughts in my head
I thought I wouldn't be the only angel head who would become a poet in this day-and-age of hippies and world leaders
So, I wanted to be an author as I kept writing out my epitaph while figuring out nothing
Quite like India without the politics
I never liked mixing the two
It should just be country and God
I always believed God gave me my folks
I gave myself my life and my mess.
A repost
Aditya Roy Sep 2022
I'm surrounded
By people from all walks of life
With cars that have travelled miles
But I'm all by myself

I cannot escape the smell of her hair
Her eyes as they follow me on the flooded road
As skip over puddles and evade her eyes
Newspaper tell their story, the smoke is evergreen

I'm holding her artistic fingers
Entangled in her smoke rings that linger a second too long
She sings out her blues
I'm living each day anew
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