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Inter realms






It's been long...
A very long time since a time with you
for this had been engaged
engaged in the tantrums of the myriad windows
windows that make this what it is

It is yet an undiscovered psyche
psyche, let me not call it one
One which denies the inner
the inner that craves
craves for fame
fame for esteem
esteem by relations
relations from shallow ponds

Ponder, it ponders it's state
stating unanimously of it's grave realm
realm, which it considers not to be grave.

Being grave is the harmony that it chose
It chose to be received rather than to retreat
Retreat, oh. It wasn't an option.

An option that cost it solitude
Solitude, yet not unhappiness
unhappiness, how could it dwell?
That which dwelt is you.
You are unwelcome
unwelcome, it says

It says, it cannot be
be in harmony yet in solitude
solitude, as you aren't a companion
companion? It probes.

It probes me, for I talk for you.
You stay dormant 
dormant, never speak for yourself.

Your windows open only to it,
it yet denies to see through your windows.
Windows? What do I see through them?
They are bolted 
bolted when I peep through.

I laugh maniacally 
maniac, I am. I am latent
latent in my own sphere, as I've been,
been engaged with the two of you.

Who am I? You?

Photo courtesy: Internet

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I'm too shallow to write a verse To wrap around the twists and turns To dwell unto my own, I do Living somebody else's life or my own? Shrouded under piles of thought, I scribble, thinking only of the applause.
I'm too shallow to write a verse or two To make ends meet, I'm too cuckoo. I'm not the classic, scratching blue wooing 'em, tearing 'em apart  with every word.
I'm not the one who rhymes nor the one with notes for those lyrics. I'm the one who scribbles blotching blue on all my troubles, roiling over moments back and forth, trying to string those stray words, into at least a doggerel. See, I don't make sense.  I told you, I'm too shallow to pen that sonnet, that ballad, that haiku, that refrain, that ode.
I'm forcing it out all that gibberish snowballed  unto mine, to chime and rhyme  but nevertheless I realise in time, I'm to shallow to be read over cheese and wine.