The Urge To Turn Every Person In My Life Into Art.

The Fall

And, as I watched the sun, Setting in the depths of the ocean, Sitting on the coast of darkness. I was relieved to witness, The rise of serenity. I laid on the sand, With a mind, finally free from the prison of thoughts. As the hours travelled like seconds, I soon realized that the peace wasn’t for long. Finding solace in the shed of despair, The sunrays will pierce my soul, again. The glare of the sun that followed me everywhere, With its fall, Will take everything with it, I will ever care for.

~ark

My Memories

I was patient, or so I thought. I counted every moment, To witness the thing, I yearned to see for long. But it came and ended so soon. Glimpses danced in my mind, While I waited for it once again. My tears that reflected the luminescence of my moon, Refused to fall, as the memories would drain too. The future became the past, My mind mourning at the memorials, Eyes blinded by hopes, Should I consider my comfort a curse or a boon?

~ark

Sculpted

I sculpted it With the desire To reshape something I could never fix To create something I could never become To make it distinct from me To let it live my every dream

But it wasn't the only one coming to life With it I was reliving I was being crafted in the process of crafting I was creating it to recreate me To give it life to live mine To feel complete

Displaying it one day, The audience seemed to be smitten with its beauty But it refused to believe them It refused to believe me It refused to love itself It refused to be Caressing it, I reduced it into pieces Only to realise, The molds I had used were once used on me, I had created nothing but me.

~ark

In the search of peace, I became deaf. When I wanted to live, I chose death.

~ark

Once Again

There I stood,

Realising I repeated that once again.

No matter how hard I tried,

I still saw it returning from its exile.

My memory seems to disappear at the time,

Reappearing after the end.

I sighed pitying myself,

While I suffocated in regret.

I don't know what to do next,

I lost both energy and time.

Putting up my best smile,

I witnessed myself,

Missing my life's target,

In the process of erasing its lines.

~ark

I am not the best,

I am not better

I am not good

But I am something.

Will that be enough?

Identity

Who am I, if not a poet? What am I, if not a writer? What is my existence, And what is my purpose?

How do I relieve myself of these emotions, If not by bleeding myself on paper? How do I express myself to the world, If not by baring myself for everyone to see? What is my comfort, if not being vulnerable with words? Where do I go, if not to pen and paper? To whom do I share my happiness, sadness, My sorrows, and guilt? Where do I let out my anger, Before it turns me cold and sharp? Where do I pour out the storm, Before it drowns me? Tell me, what do I do, If not write?

Who am I, if not a poet? What am I, if not a writer? What is my existence, And what is my purpose?

©Pen_Pain_Poetry

And, when I held it in my hands, I realized how beautiful, Someone's creation can be. How beautiful someone's vision can be, Their creativity, their minds, How beautiful a person can be.

~ark

And then she realised, Her efforts were being ignored, Because she couldn't acknowledge someone else's fears, their tears and the hard work with which their success was reared.

~ark

Her Tears

Under the dark sky, She looked up with her eyes. She smiled wide when, The rays of light and thunder echoed through the grey. Knowing that the storm emerging slowly, Would destroy everything that will come in its way, She still stood there while her hair curtained her face. Droplets falling gently, She could breathe the sandy air. Uncovering the invisible layers, She rose above all her hidden fears. Forgetting all the mortal ties Throwing away her disguise Listening to her soul for the first time She could finally cry drenched by the tears of the immortal sky.

~ark