Could you make pace with a poet's heartbeat?
Could you make pace with the unimaginable thoughts that she comes across even while she is asleep
Could you make pace with something that's not even constant
Could you make pace with the way she walks for miles just to collect a few stories of smiles?
Could you find her a reason for the way she talks or acts while she mad at her own self ?
Cause at that point even she can't make pace with her own self
A poet who can write about anything and everything that she comes across gets blank gets out of her wits to find words to describe what she wants to explain but oh! alas!
How can she explain something by whose presence she is blotted out by whose being she exists