This is not a poem;
This is an artist screaming to be heard in the abyss of life's harshest realities.

This is not romantic;
This is an artist learning to to be in love with her very self.

All this years, I have been trying so hard to create a person I could love.

Little did I realize, what I was looking for has always and-
will always be within me.

I think I've learnt to love myself.
I think I'm finally free.

This is a poem;
This is an artist screaming to be heard in the abyss of life's harshest realities.

This is romantic;
This is an artist learning to to be in love with her very self.

All this years, I have been trying so hard to create a person I could love.

Little did I realize, what I was looking for has always and-
will always be within me.

I think I've learnt to love myself.
I think I'm finally free.
I think-

— c.s wondering

The prettiest rays after days
The moonlight has faded
A fire of her red and white hair
Enticing and dignified

Don't avoid her piercing glare
As you look into her caring eyes
The Baroness doesn't age nor sublime
She just prays that you find her

I spent years looking for the one
While guarding the gates of my heart
I've found you, now I can throw away the key

Dear Moon,
million dreams are keeping me wide awake.

The tragic irony is that my ocean of world feels like a drop,
and
a drop from the world drags me under the current.