Biglychain

Do you ever read your own poetry and feel like how did you even write it? Do you remember the reason you wrote what you wrote or you just penned things that plagued your mind? Do you ever fear your depth? I do. On days like these when I count my capabilities but find them long lost, and my poems treat me like a stranger on a busy street. I do. the moon was troubled yesterday and we all loved the view. I ain't trying to say something deep, just narrating what happened. I am usually troubled with my own disasters; natural or unnatural I can't really decipher, the burning desires left me without fire. Sometimes I feel too much and sometimes nothing at all. The passerby's pass; leave me with my scars, sadness might turn into art but the sad won't, ever. Perhaps, the moon is art. I want to be one. Everyone can see the moon, the rose withering petals crumbling down on earth as if it is a grave of some star long lost in the space beyond the realms ...