Thank You @wordsbyicarus For The Tag.

Alone

All the answers known, I still chose to stay silent. Although I needed someone by my side, I chose to remain on a barren island. All the truths uncovered, I chose to act unknown, My true self drowned in the ink of guilt, I was ashamed to be shown. Descending in the darkness alone, Forbidden from the feeling of ‘home’. I was a stain for the eyes, That was meant to be on its own.

~ark

Plethora of thoughts came to my mind, But I chose not to write. Not because I couldn't find words for the same, But because the paper was unable to carry such pain.

~ark

Her Loss

In the room full of familiar faces, She lay her head low, Trying to erase the memories, Which adulterated her soul. Everything she ever wanted, Never became her own. Covered in the cold snow, She shivered to see a ray of hope. The monotony once sowed, Sprouted in a plant, It was the only thing she could call her home. Frozen in the unknown frost, She tried to be known, in spite of being lost.

Banality grew like an old moss Covered by the shade of her loss Her life became a coin of toss She was now settled in her mind’s chaos.

The Ugly Desire

I wondered why they would stab me,

When I have already died.

But who knew, in the alleys of the town,

My cowardness made me imitate them, a guide.

To hear their crumbling sound, my blind desire,

I stepped on the dried leaves,

who lived my life.

~ark

In the search of peace, I became deaf. When I wanted to live, I chose death.

~ark

I write when I'm sad cause I'm pretty busy when I'm happy.

The Memories

Here I faced them again, The people I knew. The memories I once considered a part of mine, Slowly accumulated the truth. The glimpses inter wined, Left me nostalgic, dilemma grew. I gradually travelled the journey, From smiling to fathoming the traps their eyes drew. Standing in the freedom’s queue, I yearned to see the old view. I chased the future, Dwelled in the past, I lost the present, time flew.

~ark

My own work disgusts me, at times. I find it flat, I find the words that had depth now are as shallow as a children's pool. I look to the right, and then to the left: so many other of us here and there, their poems with hard-to-read fonts, and crazy weird background colors. Big ones, 10k+ ones, think they are fools. But I see the magic, I see the struggle, the courage, the craziness, the sadness, the reflection in the mirror—blurred. The writing is good, but my eyes are dull—addicted to the aesthetic, to the trend, to the dopamine cycle, to the movement—how do I break this cycle? I'm being swallowed by it! I want to me the same, and to fight the norm. I want to inform, to conform, to deform, and then to destroy everything. I want to be real, to open a way, to see and be seen, and to become, and delight in the fact that I am another human being.

Colorful Fears

The colors fought,

Refusing to blend into each other.

They wanted to be different,

They had to be a unique color.

Accepting their death,

At least we would have a memorial.

But they realized, they were being thrown away,

Because the canvas had accepted itself,

It refused to be hidden behind the colorful fears.

~ark

Diminishing Hope

I let myself suffer,

With intentions that were never pure.

Standing at the piedmont of growth,

I felt my feet frozen, unable to move anywhere.

My eyes scanned both the ways,

Walking onto which, my survival would be declared.

Afraid of the extremes,

I chose to never try, I turned away with shun ears.

Lacking the courage to fight for my life,

I stood freezing gradually, I faced my fears.

Melting by the newly found energy,

I became essential, drops of water to be shared.

Known to the fact of being fatal,

I returned from my illusions unreal.

In the diminishing hope of reality,

My pain defined me,

The master of my endless prayers.

~ark