TIME TO PUT THE PEN DOWN

There is no reason for how I feel right now,
There is no who, what, where, when, or how.
I just think it’s time, time to take my leave.
There may be no reason, but there is a feeling in my heart,
I hate the way it hurts, unable to finish what I start.
Tears well up inside me and I cannot control their release,
It’s funny how I can express myself more easily in the written word,
But when I try to speak my mind, not a single word is heard.
Now it appears that even my writing have an end,
Time to put the pen down, no more writings I will send.
It hurts me to write this, and my words bleed across the paper,
The ink will dry; the words will survive, but maybe not their creator.
My life has been hard, and it has taken a bitter toll.
I may live soo long, or may leave soo soon.
I've wasted two decades, following footsteps.
And when I started building my own path.
Time fleeted, money vanished and people distorted.
Every night I've wept, in pain.
Looking at my past and worrying about my future.
But now with lessons learned,
My Heart has completely healed
And my mind at its best,
I find myself:
Begging no more
For love,friendship
Or devoted attention,
Just moving forwards
Toward new horizons...

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Of What ???

Of what shall I write? The cold, the shivering, the blank maze of fog? The pains and misunderstandings, the subdues of relationships? The tales of friendship? The memoirs of happiness? The bulk of lessons, the raining bullets of thought? Peddling legs, weaving dreams? Unspoken words, silent gestures? Hopeful assumptions? Discredited ideals? Of what shall I write when the words dissolve into the depths of blank diaries? Of wasted time? Of vain reveries? Of underrated feelings? Of mainstream discussions? Of ignorance, of vanity, of distinguished personalities? Of what shall I write To you- Of love? Of separation? Of disparities of sitting miles apart? Of what, my love? Of what?

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