iRis

Differentiated by paths chasing the wind, until it remembers the cover that's skinned; Sprinting on grasses  with all it's grace, until it recognizes  that subtle pace; Summiting and whispering against the mountain's frame, until it hears and echoes that name; Nearing the cosmos gazing the sky until it imprints the cast in that eye; With every gust  whispering a phrase, walking swiftly along the bays; Flowing along singing with tides, again high above in the cloud it hides; Dancing with leaves and meeting as snow, a melancholy in winter that's slow; With emotions  it's carved  and faithfully written sleeping in the forest  that has always been forbidden; Oh! by life  it's smitten....... yet again ; ( It; an insane human without identity) Wasn't made for this world I guess as all it ever wanted was to escape ; Wishes to------ Perish as ashes reaching the ocean deep into the oblivion, depth increasing day by day swept by waves going away; Reaching the st...

In the depth of the glances  (of a reflection I see in front of me) the world's collide  overwhelmed by the ecstasy I found in those enchanting eyes some story resides, Stories to tell; words to spell; but.. do these mouth actually speak the words from heart bounded by illusions  is it just me? again giving meaning to something meaningless  (giving meaning to myself?) but is it really meaningless? ................ I lost myself in the verses  in such a way that  deep into my ruptured bones I seek; I crave attention Whose? ................. Like a feather that falls without measuring it's step and silk that flows and easily bend with the course of a thing; we call time .................. What it's like to     have a poor introspection ( about everything ) what it's like to be stupid enough     to live life waywardly? ;;; Am I plagued by the insanity in this sane world  or am I only trying to be sane in this insane one, with ever...

Unsure of who she’s supposed to be awoken by the worldly rules everyday, as every imprinted cast fades away from her memories all that’s left are some shades of grey. Taking her every moment contemplating over existence, finding new things to be engrossed into but the only thing she lacks is consistence. A real self; she doesn't have one since the meaning behind is incomprehensible, dwelling into fiction forgetting reality; real people  still tries to remain sensible. She says she loves white the reason is what she seeks for, striving to understand everything so bad as if the mind can have all the things stored. A hopeless romantic she is whose romance doesn’t exist in real world, the idea of love prevails in her mind but an actual person makes her delusional heart furled ( She’s an anti-romantic ). She lives where  bliss of belonging ends and solitude of ejection begins; Has a desire to explore everything but still can't comprehend the mystery  lying within... Everything...

Growing of the widespread apathy inside me my soul began to starve for death death that summons me to surreality where fascination lies even in the breezes breath trying so hard to fit in merely left as the casket for other people’s clause fed up with these monotonous days I refuse to live in reality with it's unacceptable flaws.....

Summers don’t enrapture me anymore neither do I enjoy cold harsh winters, now spring and autumn remain and I choose the second one, not because I hate the vibrance of first but because I belong to the shades of second. Howling winds, baring trees, tinting shades, falling leaves, engulfing the barren land that once was green. And only when you walk through it will you hear a sound, I reckon it’s rather a story never spoken of but awaiting to be heard, and I believe that is where I belong …