Let the words flow. Let the pictures speak

A potential history…


De answer, a year ago, when I asked thee, to understand, I failed.
Fight each other, thine thoughts seem, an enigma, thou remain, till date.
Thy works, as I scrutinize, an interpretation, to arrive at, thine history,
uncertainty looms upon, thy need for inking, thine musing, if any.

A reason, there is, why, not everybody can write, another, thine pleasure,
thy wavelength, thy inspiration, more questions, poses, than it answers.
Language, a funny medium, a few phrases here, a few there, leaving thou
where thee started, far from, infuse curiosity, never cease to, thine words.

Underneath de goodness, a certain emotion, peeks, pain, deep agony.
Negative emotions, maybe not, missing element, a longing, a possibility.
A phoenix, from ashes, now arisen, felt let down, maybe a pile of hopes, by.
Such happiness, smallest gestures, return, de life, I ponder upon; a phoenix.

Expect history, a norm, its become, beneath pain, and rightly so,
an easy thing, it is to pick, it is everywhere, unlike it counterpart.
Become history, de decryption key, unintelligible, if tried; a feat,
if spoken aloud, sense of satisfaction, fulfilment, create absence.

To stare around, if thou cared to, find, de revelation, staring back,
strength, times of need, make presence felt, let down, a clever ploy.
Make believe, easily achieved, de hunger ensuring, thou miss to stop,
thine appetite, long messed with, de curiosity ensuring continued follow.

– De Nocturnal Poet

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