Write Up - Blog Posts

The art of letting go

Do you ever sit and reflect on everything that you've been feeling lately ?

It's both

relieving and painful

To give another thought

To the feelings inside of you.

You carry it ,

Forgetting it's weight

And when you sort your

Feelings out at the end of the day,

You're left with a handful of laughs

And a whole lot of pain.

Because you know

Deep in your heart

That a moment like this won't ever come again.

And the people in your memories

Wont stop for you

They'll live on

And so will you.

And those few who don't,

They keep you rooted in their love

You cannot find a way out of them

Because they've stopped,

Not necessarily for you

But for good.

And just know

That you can't always let them go.

Because what they made you feel

will live on

Even when they aren't here

To rekindle that emotion inside of you.

You'll always ache,

For a reason

Or the other.

So tread with patience,

This is all too new.

Be kind to yourself

Your heart is not ready

For another season of hurt and doom.

-simra.t

This is the last time

That I'm truly here

In every possible way.

Because I've let this place go.

With every visit,

I lose one core memory

Only for it to be replaced with another one elsewhere.

So if you ever ask me,

Why I am done

I'll tell you why.

Because there isn't any of me left here

To come back to.

-simra.t

You're sticking me with pieces

Of someone else's journey.

Weaving in some strangers theories.

But just know that

I'll never be enough,

I'll always be empty.

Starving,

For a truth of my own.

Waiting for my own soul,

To be mixed with the newness in me.

Because I'll always be a reject,

Of someone's memory

Unless I write my own.

Only then

I'll be enough.

-simra . T

C R O S S R O A D

We stood at the crossroads,

Thinking for too long,

Watching the way back.

Longing for the solitude.

But there's chaos ahead,

With determination in its eyes,

Hungry for another soul

To be lost in its world.

I know I'm scared,

But who isn't.

As I set foot into this strange world.

Your presence made sense.

The reaper of the dark.

Slick black hair. Shiny eyes. I see a god standing right infront of my eyes. But the tux is stained with blood from his veins . Make it stop or let him cry. Scream for help but he wont let you try. Hes a murderer of thoughts and the jailer of your mind. A sexy man with a terrible mind.

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

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