Confessions of a Serial Poet

I’m not a spoken word poet

I’m not 

A performer 
I won’t move you to tears 

I’m just a fluff

That cotton puff that flies by 

Lands in your palms right under ur eyes 
I’m not that guy who fights for the fall of the tall

The one who sings words 

Listens to the voice of faceless souls and goes quiet

When the night falls 
I am not the girl who takes you away

On a journey into unravelling minds

Through flowing lines 

I promise you I won’t tear you down or make you cry 
I’m not worth the sound of snapping fingers

I write words that need to be read

Not out loud but quietly 

When angels have gone to bed
I exist in the darkness

Where you light up your mobile

To know what the world is upto

You find me then 
Sometimes at the crack of dawn

But mostly in the middle of the night 

I am the voice of your demons

And they don’t perform on stages
They lurk backstage 

In shadows 

Until the mic goes on

You start to speak 
The show starts

And I am

Silent.

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