Sit down, inhale, exhale, or write a poem—  
But don’t escape from your bane;  
A journal or diary is yours alone.  
No need for friends to converse—  
Books are your true allies.

Imagine your character's fate,  
See who wins or loses the shade.  
You don’t have to wait;  your worked up emotions will be devoured

Sit straight, or risk your back;  
Don’t let your focus slip,  
For faceless canopies hold no claim.

Sit down, inhale, exhale, or write a poem,  
Free from classrooms or parents control.  
Memory may falter,  
But books hold date and incidents well..

The constant hammering, rhythmic and precise
Moulds  metal into a perfect sphere ,
Each nail struck with  intent ,your hands bearing the strain
Nails driven into walls to hold wooden frames-
Dark ivory ,hand carved with care now faded to gray,  
Blending with other colours , diluting it's base shade ,like mingled faces in crowd
The old rusted nail ,lost its chance to hold memories ,cast aside in the attic , despite hammers efforts to secure hooks

Waves tinkered through the old nectar,  
Flowing from the back, across every pedestal,  
Urging the bashant recovery.  
The crowd dispersed, losing interest,  
Unable to find a winner in you.  
Gushing through the waves in panorama,  
Quenching thirst with regal energy,  
Gigantic pillad tides,  
Moving in the corners of my mind.  
On the low platform stage,  the protagonist benefited success backstage,  
With only parents' support.  
Engraved within, the box of jewels,  
Precious memories glimmering with insight.

In the depth of chaos ,a lifeline found

Fraying in mutiny with heart skipping a beat and mind finding solace in barren expanse

Like an ocean scrapped of salt but whispers of mingling with waterfalls

Where wind elegantly dances  through the curtains ,squeaking out all the voices of distress, agony and made us fall in love again

A little flourished desire has occurred why the uncharted boat sailed through the spirited ground with its anchor waving

Yet  my mind doubts its rule in his heart ,a mutiny of war between intellect and emotion ,victory uncertain

The old stumper, vexed by rivers breath,  
Carinated by basant, fallen mould hums  
As footprints dance. Cherished laughter,  
Sprinting legs, shoes in mud—  
Tiffs between friends, rafting,  
And waterfalls submerged,  
The lake reflects like a mirror.  
Cohexed by a fishing rod.