Fly away my darling,
Before its too late,
Too late to turn away,
Too late to not fall in love.. yet again.

Broken heart, broken dreams
Broke everything except me

I looked at her closely,
Her eyes had met with some sleepless nights,
Her face looked pretty much the same as before,
And yet, something was missing.

As I waved at her, she stretched a smile with her fingers
What could she possibly be holding back?

Tell me.
Mirror mirror on the wall.

Why do I write poems?
An escape from the world,
The reality of the living,
To speak the heard and the unheard.

Why do I write poems?
A long lost friend,
Who stayed by my side,
From the beginning till the end.

Why do I write poems?
Faithful and trustworthy,
Keeping all my secrets,
Side by side with me on my journey.

Why do I write poems?
Love and joy, pain and agony,
What other best way,
To reveal this volcano within me.

So why don't you write poems?
Afraid the world will see you too?
Fear of the freedom it upholds?
Alas! nothing but pity for you.

It's a daily struggle to not keep crying,
A struggle to live this way,
To accept myself for who I am,
To understand that its constant,
And its never going to change.

A struggle to not feel worthless,
To not hate myself.
A struggle to smile for others,
To live for those who love me.

To feel so far away from who I used to be,
To know that nothing I do will make it right,
Nothing you do can make me want to live.

But death is an easy way out,
Nothing but a cunning friend
Living is hard.

It's a daily struggle to be courageous,
To keep believing that I have the strength to keep going.

And I shall try, for those who love me.

And now I look with expectations,
Searching for the dawn of a new day,
Clinging onto the last hope that remains.
All in the hands of love.