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Many at times I feel choked,

Trying to swallow my words,

For I know if said aloud ,

Would hurt hearts I love.


It’s hard to hold these words within,

For I know it should have been expressed.

It hurts me again and again,

With a guilt of self-suppression.


Days and nights passed,

As my mind explored paths to express.

Paths that would aide me to vent my words,

Without hurting the hearts I love.


My search ended with the sketches of my pen.

So true is the saying that,

The pen is mightier than the sword,

For it could cut or heal the strongest minds.


Words that flow out of a pen

Could burn or mend souls

Could cool or ignite wars

Without the slightest bloodshed.


As I realise the might of my pen ,

I feel tempted to encase my dagger,

In a much stronger grasp,

To face and sketch any tormenting thoughts.


Alas! Why should I fear,

When I have the strongest weapon at will?

I feel elated and blessed,

To be one bestowed with the gift of writing.


Roses are red and so are my cheeks
The fire in my eyes feels once again lit.
Mirrors before me reflect a smiling face
My mind feels light urging me for a flight.

If this be love, then I am in love ……

I am in love with the words of my pen
I am in love with the stories they weave
I am in love with the emotions they evoke
I am in love with the joy they imbibe
I am in love with the freedom they restore
I am in love with the bliss of writing….

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