Her Loss

Colorful Fears

The colors fought,

Refusing to blend into each other.

They wanted to be different,

They had to be a unique color.

Accepting their death,

At least we would have a memorial.

But they realized, they were being thrown away,

Because the canvas had accepted itself,

It refused to be hidden behind the colorful fears.

~ark

"People empty me. I have to get away to refill."

– Charles Bukowski

The Pot's Everything

The seed sown in a pot, Nourished with its care in ways untaught. The pot's everything was the plant. The reason for its existence was the plant. One day, The plant outgrew the pot. And was now held by the other. The pot, abandoned because of its care, Swore to never love anything in its life, Due to the hidden fear. But the other seed sowed in its heart, Germinated and opened it once again, Knowing, that it wouldn't sustain. But still grew just to keep the pot's soul alive, To keep it filled with warmth, For bringing the another to life.

~ark

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

To be Admired

A source of light  Untouched, sacred and pure  I burn myself every moment To mark the beginning and the end of every day Everyone saw the world around, I made sure.

But a thought lingered somewhere, A desire. To be loved like the moon, to be admired Maybe I am unworthy of it I lack it's allure Never the sight to behold People look away, scorching under my gaze I hate myself then All I wanted was someone who would look my way.

To shine like the sun, first burn like it I am an inspiration but not a sight of admiration That I longed for Like the umbrella after the rain Bandage after the wound heals They are never acknowledged, Because, They aren't wants but needs 

I am untouched, sacred and pure Not a mere source of light I smile at the realisation  I am the source of life after all.

How difficult it was to accept that you were never the one. Lying in the shadows of others, no source of light until they leave. It was never envy or jealousy, just question marks.

Just wondering where you were lacking. No matter the efforts, no matter how much of your time invested, you were just never good enough. The weighing scale always rose upwards at your side, the lines of progress descending. 

Life is a competition, I believe it too, As always, I prepared to achieve something, But somehow found myself standing in the “I wish, I could” queue.

Participation matters the most, they say, but those symbols of achievement just never reflected you. 

~ark

How do I teach myself?

I Paused

I paused to look around,

I paused to feel.

I paused to look back for a moment,

To know what I need.

I paused to realise where I was,

How far have I reached.

I paused not for the desire to be seen,

I paused solely

cause' I wanted to breathe.

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