I write and then later realize that it was a sad piece of poetry. My friends felt the same after reading some of my works. My life is not this sad it’s quite happening. (Or is it an illusion). I always wonder why I end up writing sad stuff. I try so hard to avoid non-happy stuff around me like news, violent movies and everything else. I feel like a coward sometimes ignoring the harsh truths of life, but this is my defense mechanism using which I survived all these years. I may look quite unrealistic here, but there is no harm in believing in unicorns and world is all good at all times.
Here’s my 10th poem of the month. Glad I came this far. (Patting myself on the back).
Her everlasting thirst for knowledge, made every failure vanish in thin air.
Her funny anecdotes made every lip shine with a smile.
Her resilience made every set back a challenge
Her forgiving nature made sure her heart was broken every time
~Deep
Deep In Reverie 