Snippets from my soul

And it's December again, with yet another year drawing to it's conclusion, reminding me again of the bygones and things not achieved; where seemingly uncontrollable events took precedence, amidst the confusion, some would say it is all about priorities, still I can not wait to be relieved, for while some things are coming to an end, I shall hope on my aspirations again, apparently arduous way ahead, calling for no gains without any pain.

I drown within my own thoughts,

It's that time of the year again, nights take over, proliferating darkness, sunlight, a mere rarity, you are left craving, meanwhile engulfed within yourself, the mess, doesn't recede, pinching you in the gut, only way is down, in spite of all your efforts, unaccounted for, regardless.

Heyyyyyy

When will you be active here again?

Been through the trenches, he would know how it feels, been on those edges of insanity, he would tell you what they wouldn't, been in the midst of it all, without meaning to, he could vouch for all they couldn't, and yet those parts within him, wouldn't see light of the day, and not for the lack of trying either.

In the darkness and coldness of night,

And it was December before we knew it, cold and dark December, the way it always was, the way it will always be, and yet all we could do was remember, those instances where we could barely see, what lay before us, even when we tried, rather all we did was get tired, luckily though, not from each other.

Here's my heart, with all it's apparent glory, or absence thereof, but with intentions pure, for you to keep within the magnificence of your own, and if, for some reason, it were to slip, unknowingly even, keep it intact, in your remembrance at the very least, for within your memory, could it still flourish, otherwise it shall perish, with no trace of it's own.

Hi! I read your book. With the perspective of writing it behind you, what appears to be the most urgent or salient question to you?

I was wary of the feelings concealed, the emotions hidden, behind a seemingly well-crafted poise, only to find myself succumbing to them, at the first glimmer of an instance, unable to deter any further, with a strength already ailing.

Drawn away from the magic, of life, of things exuberating magnificence, I am but lost, in realms of my own mediocrity, merely existing, barely alive at best.