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Unable To Write

By Nishtha Mishra


I am unable to write yet again,

Poetries don’t make any sense,

They don’t rhyme in my brain,

I’m unable to write yet again.


It happens when I feel dead inside,

I realised I find it hard to write,

Being sad and being dead,

Are too different to suffice.


I need to have a breathing soul,

I need to have a working mind.

I feel numb and this nothingly silence

Is being chaotic inside my spine.


It’s hard to write with an aching soul,

It’s hard to write with a dead heart.

It’s hard to make sense of things,

Words that I put together are falling apart.



To make things work I talk to you,

To makes things work I stop and look through.

My heart long so empty, gets to breathe,

Lungs start to inflate, my soul feels complete.


To have a friend like thee,

To be the target of your genuinity.

I feel enchanted and I feel mould.

It warms my heart that was out cold,


I can’t write until it’s for you,

I can’t feel alive until you guide me through,

Things make no sense and when they do,

Words fall apart until I look for you.


By Nishtha Mishra





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