Match sticks

A spark I chose to ignore,the day it came, I knew it was to stayfor evermore. The reason I hold back the tears, that stain my cheeks like blood does a woman for years. A hope I deny to I see, a rainbow I can’t fathom to foresee,for those colors I shall never be. In

Broken Windows

Broken windowsinside thy soulto say the wordsthy ears spent waiting forI say not to those fancies. I can’t fathom thysmiling facelaughter of thy might lordbut thy heart says there ain’t oneSilver ices-shall prick thy windowEmpty streets, stormy nightsmad escapades, daggers thrownthy window shall crash. the pieces of thybroken windowI shan’t treasurethe sight of mere pleasure

Silent Promises

You don’t need words to describe what you see,you don’t need someone to tell you what you need to be. You don’t need songs to make you dance,you don’t need to judge someone with just one glance. You don’t need to cry to receive some wheat,you don’t need someone to tell you honey is sweet.

.Little visions.

Visions small, confined by my four white walls, my vision is smallbut I hope to see it all. Homeless people by the streets,all they are asking is for some shelter and wheat. Dying people asking for hospital beds,and a “No!” tears their family to shreds. Many times, I used to walk by,feeling life was such

SUPER-POWERS

Writing is more like talking to an imaginary friend, a friend who you can do anything to with no revenge back in play. You can say the worst of things, and you’d be heard with no judgement, that’s the power of writing. The power to erase and recreate. “paper has more patience than people” –