The Pandemic

Always I have written for me  before anyone else but my words are for anyone and everyone who seeks comfort in them.

But today, it feels different.

Every inch of paper thats absorbing my pain , every ounce of ink .. every  word, I am using is adding to my guilt, for in times like  these , these words may and I hope they do find someone who need them more than me.

I dont know if all this makes sense to the reader, but for now I am keeping the pen down for I have added enough guilt.

Also, I hope everyone is safe out there.

Sending lots of love hope and light !

A pen that stutters..

Somedays I do have wished upon mythical powers ,

to plant ideas in my head
to make me feel less dead..
but all I have heard in the dead of the silent nights is my watch going tic -tic tic- tic
and my insecurities going berserk.
I wish I could continue this story and a thousand others,
but here I am holding a pen that ‘stutters’.

A confession

Thousands of words and hundreds of verses for the world out there to read,
and all this while its been my need.
And today I’d confess of not being a poet or a ‘writer’
but rather a fighter.
Now before you indulge in this cringy rhyme
let me lay this for you..
every now and then when life seems to get a bit much… my soul turns into a battle field and every emotion on the run find its way on the paper like blood flowing out of a wound on a cotton gauze.
And if my words touches any readers,
Dear you , I admire you for being brave enough to have acknowledged your struggles or kind enough to understand mine.
Thankyou 🙂