You keep staring down from the window. And when tired of waiting for it to come, you become a poet, a cathartic one.

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Scar are
remembrance
of one who
helped us
heal.

And must
never be in
memories of
ones who gave
them.

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I write verse
to fill up the spaces.

It's cathartic.

And futile.

The spaces are still there.
But I've found my corner
at the edge of the circle.


Redemption is near.

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Writing is an act of pleasure,
that liberates me,
from the cage of rage.
It gives me no wage,
I know,
for which I never graze.
Mind runs through the maze,
to stare at the stars,
through my gaze,
an act to earn a treasure.

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Writing is meditative. It surely is but it requires intermittent visits to your blazing wounds. You haven't healed completely but healing has been already started for you can't write until pain lessens. You become numb, listless, too disoriented to feel your existence even, writing is a far cry. A bit healed still a lot hurt, it's my catharsis.

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Our tears are cathartic tears.
Some find it a nuisance,
Some take time to understand,
And some real ones,
Pay heed and listen
And not just hear.

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It’s true that writing is cathartic,
but not in the way that crying on a loved one’s shoulder is cathartic.
The words don’t swell up inside of you
and gradually trickle out,
leaving you at peace.
Writing is sloppy and purgative,
like having your stomach pumped.

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Avowing failures
Gave me peace and catharsis,
Not flaunting success.

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Penning the lingering thoughts is a cathartic release of innermost emotions..

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Sometimes we vent out our emotions through crying . Crying is a cathartic experience. It soothes your nerves and makes you calm & composed for time being.

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