Maybe no one would get my essence
Like I do. Even after many tries.
Is that pretentiously narcissistic?
or just deep self-awareness?

A word after more words,
Creates other dimensions.
A whole new structure,
Built for different intentions.
Persuading,
Or Emotional expression.
Also for trickier purposes —
Like plain manipulation.
Of an individual,
Or perhaps a huge nation.
So take precautions.
As this is a cautionary tale.
Since you are building,
Each line of yours
can either shape or break.
After all,
Here,
we all are
What In my mind
I like to call:
“Word Architects”

Turns out,
I’m a talented repairman.
A messed-up wall?
I’ll fix that patch,
and find the perfect paint,
to colour-match.
A misunderstanding?
I’ll shape the perfect situation,
So It can be flawlessly justified.
Yes. I’m a great repairman.
Because after all—
I’m nothing,
but a destructive tenant,
In the flexible lease,
of your heart.

I don’t know if it’s the sun,
The flowers blooming,
or just the warmer weather—
But for some reason,
Your essence in the air
Becomes more present,
In April, always April.

My mother just told me
I’m constantly ‘a slave’ of my own words.
And I have to agree with her.
I can’t seem to ‘own my silences’—
as she so smartly puts it.
I know, I know.
I should ponder on
such valuable insight— yup.
Yet to me…
that was just short for:
 ‘You should shut up’

I missed that call.
And I knew
It was for the better.
You weren’t up
To anything good.
I knew
answering
wouldn’t lead me
to anything good.
And I wish It was
That thought—
the
Impeding,
rational force
The reason
for not
picking up,
But sweetheart,
honestly?
It was 3 am,
I was not that
mentally strong;
I just wasn’t
Awake.