Lost, they are,
Into the oblivion.
My first words of poetry
That I poured from my heart to paper.

Lost, they are,
Into the oblivion.
As I search frantically
For the pieces of my soul in the abyss.

As our body ages,
So does our minds
And with it our perspectives.
I search in vain pieces of my bygone era

Will I ever find what I lost?
An inner voice murmurs,
An irrational mind giving me hope
For something that I may never see.

I take my pen
To write what I feel.
To make the reader
Feel what I write.

Poetry does not come to me,
When I wish.
But it comes to me,
When I least expect it.

Swimming frantically for air,
From the deepest parts of my mind.
It comes out to be free;
Sending me running for my pen.

After writing it down,
Urge to rhyme engulfs me.
But changing means losing the raw feel.
So I let my poems be.

Harsh words said.
Feelings hurt.
Yet I do not know,
How it all began.

Why did I burst.
Now I feel like dirt.
Hateful Words like released arrows
Can never be taken back.

Emotions came flooding;
Like river from a broken dam.
Destroying everything;
Nothing stood a chance.

Grief followed anger,
Guilt replaced arrogance.
A moment's silence
Could have averted it all.

Even after mindless devastation;
My pride is not giving in.
To defeat my ego,
I muster courage and apologize.

A lost black and white picture
-Misplaces forever
A protruding tree in a pond
-Endlessly drowning

But I showed you a strong face
Yes, I showed you a lie
I thought for you to leave in peace
It was necessary for my burden
To find a place to hide

Home in your eye veered north
A rebel endeavor to outrun
The fire that is your skin
Like a shooting star

A star that had to die
For my unremarkable eye
To catch a glimpse of light
Teaching me how to say

-Goodbye