She enjoys her state of liberty like the moon enjoys when it shines at night.
Just like the wise owl, she observes and listens.
The voice that remains shut
The eyes that saw blood and tears;
And the heart; a storehouse of suppressed emotion ragging in pain
Bottling up for decade.
When Shiuli blooms as Autumn arrives, she finds her solace in hidden words, etched on her skin.
The embodiment of imperfections stitched together that makes her a human.
    

Don't listen to what someone says in the early morning hours when the moon is out.

The loneliest hearts are always up at 2 am.

A dark room and sharp blades,
where the light of hope always fades.
And when it is the pain I need to feed;
the more I cut, the more it bleeds.

A lonely room and no ears,
where no one ever hears.
And when someone I need by my side;
emptiness seek and everyone hides.

A long way and no right road,
where my heart always explodes.
And when my secrets echo through time;
I remember when you used to be mine.


-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

Midnight rains are nostalgic.
They make me realize
that I am not the only one
who is crying in the dark.

The gods are too.

It's 3 am, when you try to seek for help.
It's 3 am, when you've tears in your eyes.
It's 3 am, when all the memories hit you.
It's 3 am, when you regret the goodbyes.

It's 3 am, when the darkness scares you.
It's 3 am, when you've noises in your head.
It's 3 am, when you miss everyone at once.
It's 3 am, when you wish you were dead.

It's 3 am, when you can't save yourself.
It's 3 am, when you get hurt a little more.
It's 3 am, when you just hate yourself.
It's 3 am, when you only feel insecure.

It's 3 am, when you love lyrics more, not song.
It's 3 am, when you only know what's wrong.
It's 3 am, when you are alone, no one to care.  
It's 3 am, when you ask if you belong somewhere?

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

Two halves of soul twining under moon's wane,
Out to seek freedom from pain,
Becomes one who the stars reach to;
A stable sense of self anew.
One who gazes in the hours of witch,
A shadow in the midnight pitch;
Chaos that found peace in the calm of night,
A void that has finally been filled with light.

Do not disturb me tonight
'Cause I want to travel
Around the world
In my bed of pillows..
And my blanket
Which is my muse

For when in rue
I look at the stars for clue
Sometimes under the moon
In my gloom,
I try to paint the air
With my pen so far and near.

The night is my gear
My thoughts I rear
Like a Shepherd to sheep
So I cling to them like clip
And when the breeze comes
In me
My pen dance in glee.

Perhaps I reap off the par
And the scars I see
As tides on sea .

In the dead of the night.
I remember posterity

For when history pages in
School be open,
Shall I find a name
Greater than gold