A lot of things running in her head,
Sometimes they are about life and death;
Or about her past and future all in red.
She is always mad,
About the things she made,
About the things she had,
About the people she has met,
About the infamous word called 'soulmate';
And about every part of her fate.
She used to love compliments,
They made her day,
But then, one day when she finally realised that all of the compliments were repetitive and similar,
She started to feel like time was stopped;
That as if those compliments were scripted.
And now, she is insane in the pursuit of better and newer compliments.
She writes,
She reads,
She scratches,
She draws,
She colours,
She shapes,
She carves,
She craves,
She throws,
She destroys,
She hopes,
She wishes,
She imagines
She screams,
And finally, all in one, she is crazily looking for a new passion to write, she wants to rekindle that old flame of hers.
-and she is scared that what if one day she will lose her mind all in the name of greed for recognition-
YOU ARE READING
Tales of A Libra
PoetryThe author wonders why most of the poems she has read are all about love. Will life be constantly surrounded by love? If yes, why she has not found one? However, suddenly there was a song, and a starry night, that inspired her to write. And follow h...
