You don't wake up with a poem in your mind on a gloomy monday, while you're slowly sipping hot simmering tea, with you hands lazily swinging onto the arms of the balcony, with eyes slightly lit upon the thought that you've given birth to a poem that was stuck between your teeth and the guttural sound of your throat.

You see a poem, slowly hums melody of old songs while you watch a raven fly past cotton candy skies, that bleed into a colour of pink with the sun dazzling half through as it bids good bye.

You see a poem, is trapped within the space of skin and bones, heaving the weight of thoughts you'd never think of, untill you'd seen them in the eyes of a stranger looking for answers within the sleeves of shattered windows of places crushed now displaced from our shallow sight.

You see a poem, breathes within me as I pass by a familiar person I've known, yet realise we have being strangers for far longer than I remember and those memories now rot to letters and dreadful miseries

You see a poem, beats within my chest with all the secrets I've dug and buried, afraid enough to pass by their grave I murmur words quietly in a hurry.

You see a poem is born, within the silence of a conversation dead, beneath the stars and canopies of humongous trees

You see a poem, settles like the mist in an oddly empty winter, while I slowly gather myself to breathe

As I slowly daze in the hurricane of deep sleep , I hear the whispers underneath my mind chanting echoes of words that spill out as poetry

You don't wake up with a poem on your mind, tipped up on your tongue ready to spill and bleed. You live it, realise it and some days dig it beneath your clenched jaw as you slowly breathe in a burning city, painting a beautiful scenario in pity

~A