The ink once asked me to script my thoughts
The paper was blank as I stared at it with curiosity
I was but confused and exceptionally thoughtless
So, my trembling hands brought forward the magical wand, versed what I had pictured as the canvas would seem
And about time, my first script, named, "The Unknown Mine" came to life.

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Truth lies to me
I deny to stitch the bleeding bruises, a blurry image saddens the drinks and dreams
Hours of loud silence, cuts me deep are the sympathetic screams
Depths of red consume me unkindly
I wish they knew I was dying slowly.

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Woken up to the sky smiling at dawn 
A stroll through my mind, I sing a song 
Some colours appear at sight 
Some fly around me, vivid and bright 
My hair entangle with their wings 
Stokes I feel drawn on me 
Their laughter chimes in my ear 
They paint feelings on my skin 
Beauty they cut through wounds on me 
I'm reliving the life I wish I did 

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Long written scripts treasured with black ink speak to me as though my angel has come to take me away from this cruel reality. Yet my wings refuse to fly and escape just because my purpose here isn't fulfilled.

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He sculpted my curves, stroked my smooth knuckles, perfected my delicate skin, 
Shaped my eyes and caressed my red smoke 
Like no ordinary wind, my air was his when I stood there with closed eyes
I could see no face but the white with starlit twinkles and velvet skies
He dressed me up in silk, painted my lids red
Labeled me a muse and whispered to me a prize. 

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Labyrinth Of Thoughts

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Shared trails of coins on the marked causeway
Like reconsideration of sacrificed ashes of a treasured ritual
A deep-rooted evidence sculpting flawless demons
So, the intimidating scene of theorized plots stands in Myth's denial.

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Behind every unsaid word, the unnamed acquaintances colour my assumptions a shade lighter than the first. Since, I'm like everybody else who can't read what the sky is going to write.

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Certain anonymous acquaintances reckon I fathom every syllable their minds wordlessly convey. Well, I'm just as clueless as to which sky is going to turn green today.

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Hiding in me, the colours seek a black silence
I read whispered comments
I see darkened forests
A soul sleeps within, painting the walls 
I pray scripted wishes
I write some grey lyrics 
To all soft spoken smiles and safe sounds 
I colour frozen tears
I fly with crowned years

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