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[deadpoeticwords]

For a moment I feel the breeze in my hair, reconnect with nature, spend time with the people I love, introspect and understand who I really am;think positively, go on a car drive, show affection, drink an overpriced coffee and suddenly I'm alive again.

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I just stare into the nothingness, knowing I have no comfort films or a favorite place to go to, no person I could call my home; no one I could gift all my love to, how I use my imagination to fill the void and memories to make me cry and how easily my heart becomes feeble when I'm ashamed and no tears pour when I'm deep into sadness.

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I'll never admit it but in my heart I love existing in this era, I love laying in bed for hours watching my favorite show, I love dancing to Taylor swift in my room, I love buying scented candles, I love making jokes off my own pain, I love to look at pretty places on reels and I love that every sunset has a place in my phone with me forever.

[deadpoeticwords]

And there I was, stuck in the same place, falsely trying to calm myself by repeating it got better.

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How I admire the people who've mastered the art of admiring the mundane, watching birds fly into the sunset, finding comfort in silence of afternoons, hearing the clock tick; watch time fly by, going on a walk alone, making peace with their thoughts and still at the end of the day having a smile on their face.

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Become focused? But then how will I read all the classic literature in the world, intake all the knowledge regarding psychology, explore the universe; study the stars, create music, empathize with history, direct a film, become a detective, learn how to experience the world?

[deadpoeticwords]

I must fear death so much that I've found every excuse to escape it- to not own a pet, to not have kids, being attached to no one. If death is inevitable, let my avoidance be eternal.

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The wounds dried up I dreamed

Still the liquid blood I must feel

Light at the end of the tunnel it seemed

Heavens and gods made me heal

But no heavens and gods exist to me

A fraud, a rebel, a treacherous sin

I witness the curse of love given by me

Its pages burned, cruelty hidden within

I plead to the guity to take my guilt

Lonesome sight but not a word to say

Destruction of kingdom I once built

Turned the joyous November into May

I break, I break, I fall to the ground

A slave who dreamed to be the brave

Trace my skin, see the flare not found

See my secrets, never taken to the grave

I'm not the shadow of my dreams

I'm the epitome of my nightmares

Watch me wither, my flooded stream

Catch me, kill me alive, no life to spare

My life one must not spare.

~Avani

[deadpoeticwords]

To feel nostalgic for a movie you cannot rewatch, to feel nostalgic for a trip you can't take again, to feel nostalgic for memories that have faded, to feel nostalgic for the feelings you felt. Oh it's the sweetest curse.

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Have I really healed or just forgotten a part of myself? Am I really at peace or just practicing ignorance? Am I really who I'm supposed to be or I'm feeding myself lies?

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To stand in the silence of voices, trembling hands, unspoken words, blank thoughts, to stand amidst the chaos, realizing the chaos is your mind, but to kill yourself with petty thoughts, falling in love with the ill fated chaos.

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Born to become the poem, the art, the music; forced to become the poet, the artist, the musician.

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And it's alright if you want to stay in your comfort zone, be at your peace, be isolated, not feel anything. It's alright to be safe.

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One day, they'll talk about me in rooms I'm not present in, dream the most random dream about me, notice me before anyone else, flaunt me to others, laugh about past moments. One day, I'll not just be a side character in someone's story.

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In the end, your only goal should be to own a bookstore, which is also a coffee shop and a flower shop.

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I feel too deeply. Sadness, happiness, pain, pleasure, even nothingness. But what if it is actually a blessing disguised as a curse?

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I feel lethargic like the afternoons, still like slow songs, common like the scent of rose, anxious like I'm late for my flight, but there's beauty in these after all.