The Scribbler

It was dark at first
When I had started just.
So I started with the glowing pen.

My first word was ‘Write’
Regardless and in spite
“All your insecurities.”
So I scribbled and dribbled
On the walls as I whistled
About my miseries.

That’s when the sections
Shined in their glow.
The darkness no more.

Little by little
I gave up the struggle
And words came running
Gave me the joy
of jumping in puddles.

Some days I shriveled
In bed, no amount of
blankets enough.
On others I juggled
My words of unexpressed

Painted this wall is –
In my sorrow, and ecstasy
in love and misery.
Its wall that traces my life
And I wish,
A Scribbler I’d die.

I wrote this while in bed, inspired by a book and a feeling to go through my musings and thoughts. This one is a bit personal I think, because it feels very true and close to my heart. Thank you for reading.



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