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Detachment| Richa Saxena

Somedays I scribble poetries while gazing at the moon and somedays I scribble words staring at the empty sky somehow putting the emptiness of sky onto paper with contented words with my lame attempts of making it to look beautiful. This is how I'm, making monotonous and empty things more worthy of mere sights. Back then to my childhood I never liked broken and dull things. I always tried to give life to them. I always tried to mend things or I should say I can't let anyone pass by anything without giving it a mere sight because it is dull and broken. While I draw, I always look for crimson yellow not because it is lively and bright but because that makes dull shades look bright and happy. I always looked for stagnant pieces disintegrated into infinite little pieces laughing over death and destruction of it's existence and I attempt to save it's existence. I attempt to stop it from mixing with other dead debris. This is not only me who always attempt to save, to mend things but all of us. Don't we ?! Don't we have eyes that burn lanterns of kindness and love. We have revolution in our eyes and heart. Our souls long for sunshine melting stones into marshmallows. We have stories of catastrophic destructions and survivals, stares and encounters. We slightly smell of detachment but smell more like a knitting thread. We are few torn pages of journals but we are from those saved precious notes. We are more than the fire that burns homes because we are the fire of love, of passion and of kindness. We are meant to mend things not meant to wither petals of blooming flowers. Instagram handle- fabricatingwords




 
 
 
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