I weep like the fishes my tears invisible in the multitude of water drops,
I swim underwater, even when near, the shore invisible in warps.
I am shy and introverted. I fret over any mistakes by me in natural discourse with others. Having been a couch potato for more than a decade I can’t do things that others do with ease.
I am lost in the presence of others,
unable to fly dead weight my feathers.
I can’t interact in meaningful dialogues with others. My talents remain hidden. I am banished to ignominy. I shall languish in emptiness and mediocrity for all of eternity.
times good and bad have come and gone,
yet that one true work of beauty is beyond reach torn.
The clocks chime, the puppeteers mime, the sailors sizzle in water and peasants furrow the land and yet I find them not alluring as they fail to inspire my words. Deep from my underbelly and from somewhere near my gut flow words but they are my own and not cause any ripple with others. Yet I scribble along to release the pressure that builds deep within me.
I write for me yet seek to find you and share thoughts
a beauty made from pains that you might enjoy of sorts.
[ This short mixture of prose and poetry was inspired from the style of Shreya Vikram’s Blog ]