Mindless Memoirs

I sit tonight To re-write The poems on my friends I discarded Because they were ‘too-childish’. I. Shared food (I get the biggest share). Fights. (Can you stop being this rude?). Hugs. (I’ll miss you, these vacations). Orange ice-creams (Your… Continue Reading →

A lot of my poems Are written at midnight When the street is Alive In its silence, And my rebellion is writing In a journal Buried under the layers of my mattress. A lot of my poems Are messy And… Continue Reading →

Death has never scared me; I taught myself, quiet young, That everything that exists will perish And everyone I love will leave me someday. As a result, I have always considered humans to be insignificant; Tiny, breathing creatures On a… Continue Reading →

1. I remember my sister Talking about cicadas; How their ancient monotone Is like a thread Binding generations together, And how cicadas emerge after spending seasons underground As if to greet a new world Every time they gather enough courage… Continue Reading →

The rain Beats against the window In all of its Existential freedom. The paint from my brush drips onto paper In its self-designated chaos. My mind wanders Into alleyways of my imagination, Basking In the infinite possibilities That exist beyond… Continue Reading →

I have failed today, Yet again, To remember the beginning and end of my day. Sunrise after sunrise melts into the sunset after sunset- A candy on the tongue of a two-year-old. I search for things to write about, Go… Continue Reading →

I sit on my messy bed With a notebook full of incomplete poems And a head full of thoughts That refuse to come on paper, refuse to let my pen sort them out. One look onto my deserted street, I… Continue Reading →

I know its hard. Look at the mountains That call you home, The peaks you are yet to hike to, The valleys you are yet to whizz past. Learn- Adventure. Know, That there is an entire world that exists For… Continue Reading →

There are days When I have to remind myself to breathe. A flash-flood of emotions Form barricades in my throat And I forget, momentarily, that I have a voice. My blood Charges at my blood vessels; It is my destroyer,… Continue Reading →

My six-year-old self Would squeal when my brother used to turn off the lights in our room And whistle silently, to the wind. He would tell me stories Of ghosts; Translucent and soul-sucking monsters That inhibit abandoned castles. I would… Continue Reading →