We are
superficial beings
densely packed on the fringe
of histories in contact.

We’re torn apart
by discord from within
and rush together
when pressure rises from outside,

The balance of the two
along with our emphatic bonds
encapsulates our collective ego
defines how full we are
of ourselves.

Eloquent lair,
esteemed and influential.
Spreading disasters
that make me mental.

Not about this repetition.
Locking me in a finite position.

With a moderate delay,
reinforcements arrive.
Reminding me that it is alright to thrive.

Maturing at a healthly pace.
Hoping to survive it all with grace.

sip up your emotions,
swallow the days,
because what sparks
at night also dies
in the morning,
reflect on your
beating heart
and what made
it stop mid-way.

i wake up
distressed,
unable to
shake the
fear away
that lingers
in my head,
but i don’t
face the
nightmare,
I just lay
in bed.

The blossom floats to the ground
It hits so violently all of hell shakes
Heaven gazes wordlessly from above,
Watching our actions, judging us.
One eye follows our every move,
Waiting for failure; maybe I'll never graduate
Let's wander past old brick buildings

Sometimes I feel
I am no longer writing for myself,
but rather becoming more like an elf.
Working and writing for everyone,
but myself.

I feel the need to keep my followers
entertained consistently and constantly
out of the fear I may lose my audience.

I feel I lost the purpose of my writing,
finding myself writing to the others liking
rather than expressing the voice within me.

For, once writing felt like a destress
but now it seems more of a stress.

I find myself beating my mind,
scraping for ideas,
juicing what's left within me,
to be drained
just to post consistently.

It's important to remember
to put yourself first above others.
To express to your likings and authenticity.
To not lose one self in the muddle of others
demands, voices and likings.
To remember the reason,
why you initially started.

7/5/19

If time is a racetrack,
This lap is far from over.
If time is a river,
I’m swimming against it like a maniac.

One day I’ll be out of time.
Which is sad, but by that time,
I’ll have to say, “bye,” to that time,
It’s lost; I can’t buy that time.

If time is a classroom,
I’ll always be tardy.
If time is a party,
I’m hiding in the bathroom.

I’m powerless to overhaul,
I can’t fix it – certainly!
Life goes by so slowly,
But I can’t remember me at all.

If time is my master,
My contract will always remain.
If time is a drop of rain,
I’m dry ground circled by water.

Plot twist- I’ll live forever,
Yet time affects me and my effects,
I continue, while it’s rule infects.
Oh, Lord how much longer?

If time is an elevator,
I’m opposite the top.
If time is a mop,
I’m the unfortunate floor.

Comparatively, I’m very young,
But I’ve always felt for “this generation,”
Treated like fools in corroboration.
You with experience, hold your tongue.

If time is a book,
I read the first and last page.
If time is a cage,
I’m in it, like a crook.