Fallen angels My therapist in all hisself-love and happiness gloryasked me to tell you how much I loved you,so this is it.This is my confession.…
Till the day the world is a safe place to live in, I'll write about the reasons why it's not. While I do sugar-coat things very often to give people reasons to smile, I know that being raw is the only option to spread awareness. This post is about marital rape and justice.
This poem was written to revolve around the prompt word - travel. I've spoken about being a nomad a lot. I've also mentioned my home every now and then. Here I am merging these three topics for poetry. It goes something like this "Before I tell you a story, I have a dictionary that I'd like you to read..."
When I say this, I am speaking for a lot of artists who have spoken to people about their art, we've all been asked way too often about what inspires us. I've tried to brief the answer to this kinda-short-kinda-long poem that I hope you'll really like. I talk about everything that makes an artist creative and then I talk about why this poem is actually for all of us. Also, there's a mini-tale in it. It starts something like this - 'Creativity stems from happiness, and happiness from us...
There is a reason we love to sleep.
When you spend your entire day fighting monsters,
And watch yourself lose anyway,
You get tired and your shoulders slouch.
When the sword becomes too heave to carry,
But the villain still triumphs,
You get fed up and your eyes feel drowsy.
When you stay up all Christmas night,
But Santa never shows up,
You are disappointed and you go to bed.