We could die, anytime

At any given moment, we could die.

There could be an accident, a crash, the whole word could explode.

The worst part would not be dying

it would be

dying with the regret and saying

“I wish I did that…”

Live your life to the fullest!

Purpose of Poetry

Poetry is putting a diaphanous veil over something unappealing, speaking regarding it just subdued enough to put into oblivion how abraded and festering and suppurate the wound is.

It’s a language of emphasizing inspiration, subjectivity – of Romanticism and painless augury, full of fanatical sentimentalism and compelling twists of the tongue.

Metaphors are hazardous travesty, using a sort of transfiguration to turn wordless sentiment into imaginable circumstances.

The way the anguish rios through yoyr body and flusters your every bones compelling you to envision misery as it pull you down to great depths and choking breaths.

The truth is, poetry is a deceiver, a fibber, an equivocator. Never fall for its exquisitely crafted stanzas causing slips into the dense fog of nostalgia.