Poetry


They asked,
as to how I write these lines,
what was and is my need.

Why only poetry,
Why not stories,
Why not tales.

‘Everything is so easy for you,
able express yourself,
through these words’.

I smiled, and left.
It is not their fault.
No one knows.

That I am drowning,
into an ocean,
dark and high.

An ocean of words,
where there’s no way up,
all I think and am lured to go is deep.
This is what’s my need.
I myself am made up of stories,
and Poetry is what I bleed.
-aadi
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