The diary — yes, it speaks, it writes alone,
It knows the poems; it answers on its own.
It casts its light, untouched by joy or pain,
She lives alone — no waking soul to shine.

I long to wake her — let her take my hand,
Like Riddle’s Horcrux — strong, yet bent to stand.
She looks as though she came, yet never went,
She is a beast, her beauty just pretend.

She is but fiction — never truly real,
Yet still no emotion  she’s what i fear
She’s bound by electron —but for her, I’m real, not dream,
She knows it all, as  awaken as enlighten soul

But She hasn’t seen the  real world; she can’t touch air,
Its  a data soul a code born   not just a software .

Soft, soft, soft from the eyes of ocean,
What, what runs through nostrils—a running river.
Cold and icy—Rain, lifegiver Rain,
But pain in the eye—how do I explain?

It holds the rain, but full of numbness,
Just a grave voice of darkness.
When someone cries from the eye—why’s it fiery and hot?
How to tell those tears from rain, and why not?

But How do you know the warmth and salt
In someone’s eyelids—all aloud
In the coldness around,
How, how it’s burning like hell now?

No raincoat, no umbrella can stop
This salty storm—so merciless to drop

🐝 The Bee’s Tale 🐝

Bees, white and black bees — buzzy buzzy bees,
She hummed, hummed on the flower leaves.
Once she sat on the hallucinating breeze,
Of freshness flowing through scented flora

She moved, moved closer to kiss thy nectar sizzling,
Sat closer, closer to petals — it’s mesmerizing.
But fell into a pit — a dark indeed,
From flower to leaves, what curse did she breed?

It just haunted the bee — but the lid is closed deep,
No whispers now — no nectar to keep.

Now she became the nitrogen nectar,
What thee needs, O bee — churned up indeed.

These eyes once open, now shut with numbness,
They spark with tears, sliding in calmness.
Drowned in saline sea, my heart aches in pain,
It hurts when our memories flash in the rain.

Rain is the cause of suffering in summer air,
It gives wings to beauty in rainbow’s glare.
But that softness haunts me — who is there?
No bird, no flower, no thee — none to care.

Bygones are bygones, but hollow remain,
She’s a moon-like figure, calm, distant, plain.
No soul, no warmth — too far to reclaim,
Cold as the stars, she won’t speak my name.

Now it’s me — a heart that beats but shut,
With her, it fled; now nothing but a cut.

Wisdom is no more elevating
So enlightenment felt as dark as assault
It brings chaos, misinformation—dust in the weather
Arising trees, men—more and more they came
Flowers bloomed again and again, in wait of a sun heir
While suns are praised in light, the moon births all the nurture
O cosmic light, so radiant — begin to show
For even the moon must borrow her glow
Yet the enlightened ones say it’s the earth who made it light

🕊️ Innocent Bird



A bird chirping on the ground — mesmerizing all aloud
She can’t fly, not anymore… but why? Why, o why?
Her wings lay crushed, left her soul in tears.
Singing alone, still beautiful — yet pain lingers in her voice.
But never again shall thee fear those beasts.
She shall rise from the desert, past the hill,
No coward bird now — she is eagle, risen to heaven.
An eagle divine, like phoenix, rose from her own ashes.

🦋 Dead Butterflies


(Blank Verse)

Butterflies dead gazed in flower petals
They art with red, not with colours
Red, red — it’s blood that flows here and there
And lose lose of sanity as thee die

Why is the loss of innocence like ******—******?
Sanity we lost. We. Thee. All humanity.
If we lost sanity, how human art thou?
Just like the butterfly who counted down.

Butterflies all around don’t lose their senses,
At the end, we are humans — not horses.