How not to treat a poem…

Golden threads I weave in desperation

with pearls of words and thoughts strung

so that you remember me when I’m far away

into the land of strife

I weave, I wander through empty paths

In search of a future non-existent

I stand desolate on this world’s stage

Feeding on the vestiges of happy days

And tired I look half turned to go

Like a bird that returns to an empty cage

A loser am I, I look down and shiver

A reticent tear breaks my armour

P.s: I know how the words 'desperation', 'strife' and 'loser' look :)

I wrote this poem ages ago, as in really years ago in my little span of life. I just found it and It made me feel kinda nostalgic and kinda stupid. It was a time when my emotions went higher than the current flow and little tips of them touched the pages. As always, emotions too high end in regret. So, when I finished writing this, I considered a page and a few minutes wasted and threw it away.

I think it is wrong, just like the way we delete photos we don’t like because we don’t want to acknowledge our ugly side. Throwing this meant I refused to acknowledge the childish side of my emotions. Now considering I just crossed teen years seemed to be a good time to do so.

Geez! I threw away so many things like that. I guess most people do so. But that doesn't make my regret one inch lesser. I wrote a physics record book full of love poems in my 11th standard beginning about this guy I thought I was in love with... it would've been so nice if I kept it. But then, my love story ended up in a couple of phone calls. I laughed at myself, opened the books, laughed at the poems, thought I was being real clever at moving beyond and threw away the book. And it was a fully written in book too. Then there were these drawing books I threw away just as pompously thinking I could draw those mickey mouses whenever I want. Lol. Maybe I can, but I can't colour them like that.. I can't believe in the picture and scrape up enough patience to put blue in blue's place. Maybe they would've seemed foolish, but they would've been with me, exposing my foolishness to no one but me. I shoud've kept them, I should've. I should've kept the glass painting I did for s.u.p.w. I should've kept the little gold cups and trophies I won. I should've kept the letters I wrote for Chetu in my 9th that went unposted.

Moral: Think before you throw.