Had all these feelings,
Brewing inside me,
To share or not to,
Questions troubled my mind,
Would I be judged,
Would someone understand,
This beautiful world inside me,
That blooms and sometimes erupts,
Tried to tell a few,
Failed to find the right words,
God these emotions inside!
That have no names,
So I walked on and on,
Plugging leaks inside me,
Crossing my fingers,
Hoping I don’t explode,
Put I, pen to paper,
Wrote a few lines,
Attempted haiku,
Short stories too,
But everytime I looked at my work,
I felt a tinge of disappointment,
I’d never be a Wordsworth,
A Frost, Shelley or Hemingway,
My English teacher’s bitter words,
Ran through my mind,
You terrible writer,
Your English sucks,
Somehow when I wrote,
Words flowed like a river,
Emotions had no names,
But I realised I wasn’t alone, others felt the same,
My imagination gave me wings,
Somedays I could rhyme,
No longer was I a boiling cauldron,
I was at peace inside,
You could call me,
A pop poet, an amateur writer,
A drifter, an attention seeker,
Refusing to honour the traditions of literature,
But I embraced my fears,
Cared a damn about being judged,
Released my repressed emotions
So you never have to feel lonely again,
And I’m every ordinary human being,
My voice, my identity,
My story, my life,
Also makes History.
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