Thing I realized/learnt in April: writing is still difficult and i don't really know what to do about it i want to give myself everything i want but i am scared that uncontrollable things will ruin it for me i want to get away for a short break i am tired. i don't like to make decisions. i don't find anyone interesting to talk to on consecutive days. i don't want to talk to anyone. i want to scream. i miss the ocean and beach. i miss the mountains. i miss the version of me wh

The devil couldn't reach me, So, it snatched my desire to love, To write poems with passion, To work without taking long breaks. It increased my screen time, It gave me ideas but no will to work, It slowly poisoned my hope. Unfortunately, the devil couldn't reach me, Which means, I will thrive even when it feels like I'm losing, I will win, I always win.

Things I've been finding difficult lately: Sleeping on time Walking up early Reading books Starting work Stepping into the shower Going for walks Writing good poems

I have this massive void in my abdomen tonight, It's only expanding with every minute as the night progresses. As if I lost something, Something I thought was mine, But I never had it, I don't have it, I have lost nothing. Then, why does this void keep increasing? What do I fill it up with? How does it go away?

I've been a giver my entire life, And, now, I am craving for energy, For actions, For possibilities. My only problem being, Don't make me ask for it. What's the point, If I have to ask for it.

Only dragons survive in this heat, As they breathe fire, Protecting everything belonging to them, Fiercely guarding their hearts, As they fly close to the sun.

There's a void, Of words and feelings, In my heart. Maybe it's the boredom of monotony, Maybe it's the emptiness of love. I want the lovergirl back. Who's going to bring her back?

Just between us, I am tired, But I want to keep going, I am exhausted, But I want to do so much more, I am lost, But I feel I have found myself a bit, I am here, But I don't want to be, I am okay, But I am also not.

Maybe this is the quietest and loneliest Corner of the world, Where a poem pops up, Every night, Regardless of how good or bad it is, With or without any inspiration, For someone on somedays, Or for no one but me on some, Whether anyone has read any for the last few months, Or if anyone cares at all. Maybe this is the quietest and loneliest corner of the world.

As a kid I used to wonder, If I would ever be able, To put the right amount of salt in the food? And I want to tell that little girl, That, she can do it, She's been doing it, She can do it perfectly, She is really good at it too. ❤️

Maybe he's thinking about me too, When we haven't seen each other for days. Maybe butterflies flutter in his stomach too, When we see each other after those torturous days. Maybe he's wondering about me too, When he cannot sleep during the night. Maybe he's dreaming about me too, When he cannot tell me what he's telling me in the dream every night.

Do I visit you in your dreams, Like you visit me in mine? Do you want me to stay for a little longer too, Like I want to keep sleeping to keep you close to my mind?