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@berylelixir-blog
Mirror, mirror on the wall, Am I the prettiest of them all?”, she asked with vanity framing her pretentious edges. “Truth is what I say, Beauty never occurs this way. That flaunting dress won’t be admired, Exposing does not make one desired. I might sound wrong to you, But genuine guys are quite a few. They do not fall for such odd tricks, Even though, easy on the eyes might seem quick. Easy to the heart is the chosen one, And hereby, the deed is done.
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"She is very talkative in the class.", complained the teacher.
My mother didn't scold me.
"She doesn't talk much. Why is she so quiet?", complained my relatives.
My mother didn't scold me.
Her poetry was as honest as her conscience, It was her smile that lied.
Unsaid Unheard Undefined Yet, she felt those thoughts were sorted enough.
There’s a rebirth of who you are & who you cease to be… When you write. Your thoughts start breathing within those words and take up a life of there own. Perhaps, In depth of moments and along the retrospective… We write to taste life twice.
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Yes, she changed From sobbing at broken pieces to fixing up her shattered self ; A major of her transcended into bloomed up fire. She wasn't dull or anymore fragile, That was prominent with her valiant smile. Of all the burns & scars she had, Tattered by time. Thereafter, felt glad ; As she committed no crime. Tender yet stiff, Meek yet fierce. Yes, She changed!
Endless thoughts, No one to listen, A pen & a paper... That's all it took her to be a poet.
I can't express your worth in mere words, Allow me to prove it... For the rest of my life.
"She can't fulfill your wishes... Then why be with her?"
"How does it matter... when she is my wish come true."
"But he doesn't talk much,he doesn't like literature the way you do... And he gets nothing of what you write...
You two seem to be so different.Then how?", she asserted her dilemma.
"Those are the exact reasons... he is my other half what lacks in him, rests with me... He's a listener, and you know how talkative I am. He need not like literature, he loves me and that is more than enough. And about my writing, he is the most pleasing poetry ever weaved... Refined out of serenity.
I love him."
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"Why do your parents leave you alone? Do they care enough?", a voice asked.
"Perhaps, they care enough that is why they leave me alone...
Though alone... not so much, as the moment they walk in the house...
kiss my forehead and hug me nicely.
I feel as if they never left.",
he replied while consoling his own heart.
She wishes she could do more for him… He wishes she could know her presence is much more than anything she could do.
"Why does she fights with me so much? She never cares for me!", he yelled.
His mother calmly replied,
"Try to look beyond, she fights because she cares."
"It's pretty hard to believe.", he murmured.
"When this mother of yours was stuck in those storms, she was that mother who comforted you;When you were scared of the dark, several burns she had while lighting up the candles;When you were hungry she gave you her share;And when you cried for someone next to you... even though she was a kid too, her embrace gave you all the motherly affection. Remember?", she was quiet with a few tears rolling out.
"I'm sorry... I forgot.", nostalgia brought back all the love for his sister.
There were a few who winked a smile... There were a few who wished to walk along... There were a few who sneaked at this wounded heart... Yes, there were a few whom I didn't let in.
The white’s of life were fairly free Yet the dark caught me, Me was chained With shades of realm and, Tones of truth, I walked as grey.
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"What do you want as your birthday present?"
"Promise, you'll give whatever I ask for?"
"Sure... Except if it's a unicorn that you want, because darling they don't exist."
"What? they don't?"
"Come on, make a wish..."
"Hmm... I want you Dad. I want you to live without alcohol."
"Even after giving so much of myself... I lost", he sighed.
"Don't worry, there's more to life and to you...", she smiled at him.
"I don't know... Nothing is going to come back to me now. It's hurtful.", with a low tone.
“Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect... that's what Luna said.", she mentioned.
"You Harry Potter fans... Though, yes... she's right...", he glanced at her with a smile.