The Same Song

What do I put on paper today,
When I know the ink has run out
And there is no white left between the blues?
All the papers I have filled,
They all look the same
Carrying the same weight.
Each of them
Is singing the same song
With a change in tempo, perhaps
But they all have the same lyrics.
What do I write today
When the song I put on repeat
Has started to wither in my mind
And I have no other on my list?
How can I write today
When I have nothing to say?

The decaying words

How often I have noticed,
How the frequency of the words that I speak
Has been declining with each day;
As time goes by
I have less things to say vocally
Because
When I write
I fear that I would run out of paper
When I would have a million more things
To portray,
Because when I write
I know no one looks into my eyes
And no one stops me in mid-sentence
To speak their side.
Because when I write
I don’t have to worry about the pitch of my voice
Or how eloquently I speak,
And sometimes,
I write behind closed doors
To not let anyone peek
Into my life in which
I don’t speak
But I have a lot to say.

The person behind the name

As I sit here stringing the words which are pricking my head, the blood drips on my fingers and they move incessantly forming paragraphs, creating my world.

Let me introduce you to this blog you might come across someday. This blog will contain pieces of my heart which got shattered on this journey I took. So, I weave the pieces together and present to you, my reality. Perhaps, some pages may remind you of yours. Don’t be alarmed. You would be surprised to know how similar we all are and still how unique.