Written by: Swodhin Bhandari - 24048, Grade XI
Posted on: 27 February, 2023
The misty air, the chills and the rain-
The cold atmosphere, with grief and pain,
The nature of belonging, yearnings I gain
Nobody understands, leaving the poet's words in vain.
Writing these feelings, in a piece of paper,
Hard to portray, I write with blood as ink-
Lonely as the moon, in the void he sinks,
As pure as water but poison he drinks.
As vast as the ocean, he sails his boat-
Under the waves of his own words, with his quill and his coat.
His writings that he understands himself and believes
Nobody else does, he doesn't realize himself, he deceives
Lost in his own paradise, writing these stories-
Growing as an individual, he writes these words-
Climbs from the void himself, mighty he caves up;
Then he escapes from the delusion, from his dream, he wakes up.
