I sit down every night, play with my thoughts,
Rugged thoughts surround me, nag me again,
Tonight you will have to make it through boy..
I surrender to my inner poet, Ha! I call myself one,
Though there ain’t many words to prove,
How the journey began, how it’d ever end?
I just keep walking down the abyss of doubts..
Try to remain lost in that imagery of clouded inhibitions,
I pen down a thousand drafts, dropping those long ashes down,
Each time the verse goes perfect, I take a double shot espresso,
Not to celebrate, but to exist in the same world sourcing me..
I salute my ink pen, its form, the way it influenced me to buy,
The composure makes me write more, it lies,
Each time I smother the nib down under the cap’s butt,
It abuses me. It points me. It tells me you’re a coward..
|Courtesy: Dipti Malhotra|
Waking up in the middle of the night, I stare the moon,
Preparing my coffee again, I sit down,
I take down my thoughts, they change, they do,
Dreams, no they ain’t so easy to chase..
I near perfection and I fall but I still laugh on my repercussions,
I sit back and rewind the roll of my hungover memories,
Bringing the woods to life, I see the nature, calming down,
The first ray of sunshine, strikes the beautiful epiphany..
I collect the fallen sheets I painted my words on,
The helpless butts on the floor stare me with a sigh,
They shout at me, you killed us last night,
Your death is not so far, Mr Insight..