I may have stumbled upon poetry
accidentally one day
driven by extreme voices
strangulated far too long
within the confines of a stubborn mind
overthrown at last by a profusely bleeding heart.

But I am, by no means, an accidental poet.
I had poetry trapped in my veins
Lying dormant, just no escape..
Until that fated day
When it poured, never to stop again…

I am not an occasional poet either
I do not write because I like to.
I write because I have to.
There is a difference!

If you’ve sensed pathos in my dark writings
You have also seen the delirium
of what I become
when in love;

I speak in metaphors!

I become what I speak
I speak what I bleed.
And when my poetry aches
I seek refuge in his words.

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