Dark surrounds the sun
even when it spread its light
the moment its gone
it makes its presence known
Though the sun reaches million miles
but the darkness is far beyond
will it conquer it?

The truth about poets
Is
They’re not all alike
Some are derelicts
Scalawags
Lovers
Sisters
Some say they’re writers
Instead of Poet
For they know what that puts
Into the minds of others
Romantic
Lethargic
Gypsy
Some will never write novels
Poems are their Ulysses
Their ‘Love in the Time Of Cholera
Some are sad
Withdrawn
Choose to live there
While some poets
Use their words
To claw their way out
Some have fallen out of love
&
Want someone
ANYONE
to listen
While some have fallen in
the deepest ocean
&
Want to tell the world
What this man
This woman
Means to them

Most write their verses
Alone
Some at midnight
Some at sunrise
Some with coffee
Most with bottles

Most will never see the reaction
Of many
Will never hear
‘I like that...’

And most don’t want to be famous
Or sometimes heard
We
Just want to be
Ourselves

You were doing so well, I was proud of you,
But the beauty of the world took you from me.
Did you ............miss me too?
Now look at me, broken in places where I was broken before.
This time my wounds won't heal! I cannot. take it. anymore.
You have not noticed but I am trying to nurture these scars, to patch them up again.
I bleed infront of you,  do you see my blood, don't pretend!

Where are you? Are you somewhere where you have openly hidden yourself from me?
I see you looking my way, but do you truly see?
What's your focus?
Do you see me or are you subconsciously focussing on the dagger in my back- the one that you twisted and turned, time and time again.

Aren't you seeing all the blood? Ofcourse not, I've cleaned it up with my tears.
I have drown myself with your painful smiles and glareless stares. Do you still see me? Because I don't want to see you. I smile and turn away.
This time, I'm mended, not broken.