When we write, we are not penning down mere words,
We lend our voice to the heart to express itself, be it the tickle of flower or beating of swords.
We know we show the world how extremely emotional and sensitive we are,
But when it comes to make someone realize how wrong he/she is, the guilt our words give is beyond any bar.

We write because we feel, we write because we empathize,
Not expecting the world out there to lend their pity or sympathize.
For us, when we write, every word is a creation for it might be a rhyme, a synonym, or an antonym,
Like moving clouds make sun rise and set, these words of ours create our writing, sometimes bright and at times even dim.

Like for a dancer, every movement is dance, for us every thought is our poetry – speaking volumes, shaping fun, love, sadness, and fury,
We are blessed with magic, because our words heal people, help them relive and cherish their long-gone heartfelt moments that they wish to bury.
Yes, our writing does express what we have gone through but, sometimes it just showcases what we are seeing people around us fighting with,
The very notion of people about us that, what is wrong with him/her after reading what we have written, is an unjustifiable and unwelcome myth.

When a kid talks its own language, we do not mock or conclude that the kid is insane or there is something wrong with it,
We adore the kid for its innocence and originality, try to respond to whatever it spoke, though we still wonder if we understood even a bit.
This is exactly with us, our writing is our language which might not be our real life at the moment,
You read it, you feel it – Just enjoy those moments and do not go on to spoil them by analysing every phrase and punctuation in the content.

Not every-time everything warrants your sanity and intellect,
At times, flow with the emotions, feel your heartbeat, stare at your soul,
and appreciate the human in us which we usually neglect.

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