I stumble at lot these days usually on expectations, dreams, past and hope for a future.
I often find my staggering steps leading me to strangers, cheap whiskey and fiction.
I don’t know which one helps so I do all them.
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Strangers are good because they are temporary.
For sometime I can be whoever I want to be.
New mask is a new character.
After all the world is a stage.
Tricking the audience into believing each disguise is the game. The game I play well.
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In some I’m the princess, in others the evil queen.
In some I’m the damsel, in others the dragon.
In some I’m the believer, in others non-believer.
In some I’m me, in others the person I can be.
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Will they love or hate it?
Root for its success or failure?
Will they admire or criticize?
Will they applause and stay for the ending or choose to exit?
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It matters, sometimes more than others. Sometimes I reveal about the actor more than the characters. A struggle to complete myself.
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Figure out the ending before the play ends.
I’ll let you write a new one.
Play the game, darling.
Play it well.
YOU ARE READING
The Blooms Of My Garden
Poetry'The Blooms Of My Garden' is divided into 6 parts. Every part deals with one theme and various emotions that are associated with it and how the poet deals with it. 1. Love 2. Lust 3. Heartbreak and Closure 4. Self-doubt and self-love, healing and b...
