Saturday, 15 October 2022

Matters of the heart. Matters of poetry

 Here is the thing.

I try my best to be a good human being.

And I have expectations from my life. And yet- I shut the fk up for many years. 

1. And then- when I had comfort and safety- I started wanting more from life. Mistake #1.

2. I felt angry- and wanted to express it. I did it. Destruction. Indulging in bad, bratty behaviour completely not me. Now I am one- thanks to the behavior in the past that I cant write off. Mistake #2.

3. I approached things with an abandon. I didnt care for the society. I didnt care about what people would think. I just did what I wanted to do. For my happiness. Mistake #3. BIG mistake this one. 

4. I chartered into waters new to me. Very new. What was common for everyone else in town- was uncommon for me. I started emulating behaviors new to me. And I took it like fish does to water. And thought this is the new normal. But there is a huge question of conflict. Mistake #4.

I could go on and on and on - the list of mistakes would be endless. Point is - it's too late to correct. I am dead. 

Today feels like a final nail in the coffin.

What's poetry in this? I am still living. I wonder where is life coming from?

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