If you look closely
at the ridges of your fingerprint
You can see mountain ranges
and lush valley forests
where rivers
nourish little people.

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

We could've held the stars, yk!
And dance under the gloomy moonlight
We could've fought,
For us, the existence alone.
We could've held on
And not let it slip out,
It wasn't a handful of sand!
We could've simply tried,
Atleast, that's what they've been teaching us!
'Trying never leads to disappointment'
Even a handful of sand would've stayed either...
But...
That's it
We,
We could've...
But!


                            𝘵𝘤𝘸/𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘷