Untraceable.

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The exotic mind that you loved,the charm of my heart that you carried;

shall be in the oblivion sky,someday,

lost like scattered clouds;

The naivety of my soul,the pureness of my child-like laughter;

shall be hidden,somewhere in the dark rocks;

so deep and exceptional;

that it will become untraceable to find the original carvings of my caricature.


I Am, All That.

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Like knife,I appear

sharp-edged,brutal,

so uncoil me only to see

million of stars hidden within

Like an insipid soul I become

so unwrap me

only to see a cryptic haze of dainty-like rose petals

Like unfathomable dust,unclear

I become.

So rekindle me,ignite me with 

meticulous storm

and then you shall see

how unflinching,

transparent ,

I am.



 

The smoke..

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The heaviness of this unconsious mind,how uncertain and unreal,it seems.It feels as if my limits are expanding,extolling in the zenith of mesmerizing thousand thoughts.You,my dear life wish to stop me from spreading in the minds of scanty ones?Try my power,try my will..the smoke in me shall speak its chill,for my heart is valiant,my intentions are bubblegum sweet,you want to capture me?”No”,to which my smile speaks.

I am the smoke,in you..in me,if you want to capture my bliss,I ponder on that as my will is as free as a bird,yet I live with my head held high.Tough it sounds?Then take my word,for you life, are only a hand and not the ashes or the smoke.I am the power,the colossal resolute spark with the spirit still untested…patience undefined!

You may entwine me in your web,but the aftermath is beyond your expectations to taste, as I am a warrior and a queen of my fragile thoughts,you can never beat me as I may have befuddled you too in ways uncountable.



 

Mind in Chaos.

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Sometimes the flow of my ink breaks,sometimes it utters the most veracious words.I continue to remain in the swamp of ablaze,though wondering what shall happen if I refuse to speak my words.The inner turmoil twists my mind often in an unplanned way,gives me shiver when I write.I have this urge instilled in me to adorn the paths in an ebullient way,sometimes crooked sometimes curvy.I hold my pen,my strongest weapon to speak the most substantial emotion,sometimes I am floating in the darkness of numbness,while sometimes climbing the ladder of flowers..still second thoughts arrive and carry me someplace undefined.Often,I imagine myself in a dark dusty place at times,with no one arround..no heart beating,if anything persists it is the insecurities perhaps that lock horns with my mind ,firmly.My  future is uncertain and so is the luck of my palms,my pen shakes,my thoughts budge and I am often lost in the whims of expressing my emotions.Don’t know where this flow of my ink might take me..I hope it’s a place better than state of unconscious,where the dust of my chair gets some reverence,and the inkpot discovered.