And The Highlighter Of Mundanity, Bathed The Whole Book.

Identity

Who am I, if not a poet? What am I, if not a writer? What is my existence, And what is my purpose?

How do I relieve myself of these emotions, If not by bleeding myself on paper? How do I express myself to the world, If not by baring myself for everyone to see? What is my comfort, if not being vulnerable with words? Where do I go, if not to pen and paper? To whom do I share my happiness, sadness, My sorrows, and guilt? Where do I let out my anger, Before it turns me cold and sharp? Where do I pour out the storm, Before it drowns me? Tell me, what do I do, If not write?

Who am I, if not a poet? What am I, if not a writer? What is my existence, And what is my purpose?

©Pen_Pain_Poetry

Blinded Eyes

I trusted my eyes blindly,

I guess that's what humans do.

But my illusion shattered,

As the pigments of lies,

Reflected the fictitious truth.

The light was biased, I believed,

But its innocence was trapped in an endless loop.

Refusing to bow before the unproven facts,

I decided to perceive it with a different view.

I tried to become a pigment myself,

Reflecting my sins into actions my apathy sew.

But the law of the cosmos remained constant,

I surrendered, confessing to my vengeance's coup.

~ark

My Happy Ending

I know very well, That the end is near. But still, I believe that it's not the end of the world. I just keep sitting, fearing it, thinking about it, But I don't know why, I don't act for change, I don't change for the same.

I know that if I try, I may make it. But the fear of what if, Makes me stationary. Even after its monumental importance for me, I don't act, I don't change.

They say, everything has a happy ending, But what if I don't want it to end? Because if it doesn't, I wouldn't have to act, I wouldn't have to change. It appears so easy being stationary.

But it's not the same, As for the poison of fear, Is consuming me gradually. And that ending is the only way, I could get rid of it.

I don't know if it'll be a happy ending or not, But it'll end for sure, Even if I don't wanna act, Even if I don't wanna change, I have to act, I have to change. For my happy ending.

~ark

The Dictum

I chose to stay silent,

I chose to avoid violence.

I chose to be alone,

I chose to remain unknown.

I chose to accept them,

The people who hid behind the mask of a friend.

I let myself suffer,

Welcoming the troubles

I cried considering my unfaithful life,

A dictum.

But in all of this,

How was I the victim?

~ark

The Footsteps

The footsteps across the path she crossed, were the inspiration of the nightmares in which she was lost. Those footsteps made the path uneven; they were embedded in it after all.

Every time, she wanted to take a different road, full of adventures abode, she tripped on the footprints, that trapped her there, the moment she felt aware. The other one would be bad or even worse, she thought while she was handcuffed by the curse of her memories.

The footsteps she was scarred by, Belonged to the person who once made her fly, But she never knew, she took her first flight in a trapped sky.

She revisited the days she was a sunflower, who followed her star, her sun with all her power. She was now a prisoner, unknown of the jailer, after all the road became her world now.

The girl who was trapped by a jailer in a jail, Now thought her home was that person who protected from the unknown, Little did she knew; she was being hidden behind a cruel veil.

She asked herself one day, how did the footsteps leave such a deep impact on her fate?

She then remembered, the person crossed the path when it was young, when the cement was wet. The footsteps were embedded when the cement was naïve, it was isolated when they met.

The footsteps sculpted her entire life now, which made her imprison herself in the prison constructed by her hands, she was just a puppet now, strangled by the death strands.

~ark

Either praise or curse,

I just wished for some words.

From your throat to my ears,

Something to know that you see my efforts.

I am not the best,

I am not better

I am not good

But I am something.

Will that be enough?

They'll Too

The situation I had been in, Was the situation they were in. I wanted to warn them, As I already knew the end, But I decided against it. As I was the one who ignored the warnings too, And I knew they'll too. Thinking, The way I realised, They'll realise too. The way I learned, They'll learn too.

~ark

Moving On

Reality sunk in, Imaginations came to an end. The chromatic life was now buried, The reign of truth finally flourished. The string of relations broken, Slowly strangled me to death. I said, I had already moved on, While I visited a new place wearing my old uniform. Bitterness is better than sweetness, they said, But I still wanted to read the chapters already read.

AND..

As I peeked through the closed doors, Confused between the two boats, I begged to find the pages I wrote, While I burned the ones they tore.