Fingers tremble like if it ever knew how to write;
My thoughts are tangled like I could never think.
The feeling of helplessness screams out loud
from the corner of the room
"You are the tortured soul
with the face of a smiling angel"
I gave it up. This time it was not on the person,
not on love or anybody’s inability to return it.
But on the ideas I embedded,
that only a superficial force can keep me happy.
The room is darkened
Just like the people who have lost thoughts like me.
Nobody anymore seems to know romanticising
It never existed just like the lost light in this room.
Hope, never got this stronger in not hoping anymore;
No hoping light from the darkness
No vandalising the hopes
that someone would save my drowning soul.
For once I will hold onto to the glimmer of light
from within this time.
Believing it;
Revitalising.
About the Creator
Chandni Venkatesh
"La poésie est une histoire en soi
N'a pas à rimer
parce que c'est beau de toute façon"
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