She was that Poem

Penned by the Writer

I loved to Read

That turned me, a Reciter.

She was that Painting

Painted by the Artist

That kept me Smiling

Even at the darkest.

She was that Carving

Carved by the Sculptor

That brought me the feeling

Of, World is a Cluster.

I was Cheery

For the gift of Creator

But became teary,

When he turned a Castigator.

For my Unknown Mistakes,

Which I always regret,

He denied me,

The Poem, The Painting, The Carving.

“Oh Yeah, She was your Creation,

But also my only Obsession,

That your act has become a transgression

Pushing me to a deep regression.

If the Laws are Equal

For Me and You,

Then its your time

For I am the Creator and the Castigator now.”

I became that Writer,

Searching for that Poem

In all the words

I pen.

I became that Artist

Searching for that Painting

In all the Colors

I paint.

I became that Sculptor

Searching for that Carving

In all the Stones

I touch.

Still I am carrying on,

That never ending search.

A Search For Her.


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