Why is human race confined and defied of their full potential ,by putting them in definitive boxes?
Why is it that the way I think and learn is not understood?
Why not look at the bigger picture and try to remotely relate to what I'm doing at the moment and attempt to fit that in the bigger picture like the peice of jigsaw of the puzzle.
Aren't we all misfits??
having nothing in common even
Yet you fight to be everything but not yourself?
Why prove so hard that you're the same as the crowd?
Why worry about offending people for the reasons that do not matter as long as you're doing what needs to be done to be the best of your potential at that given moment?
Why hurt and onself and others trying to supress the urge of the soul to explode with the Colors of gravity
?
It's the tiny things of letting people grow in their own original way is what will make the whole world the best it has been so far and I thrive for that.
To be able to empower people to believe that they play a huge role in Saving the world from crumbling by simply loving themselves
..by 'empowering love'
that the ability of every person to vent out that shivering energy with in your lungs out in your own form or way through words or music or by painting or by filming or by just screaming till your diaphragm hurts...if that's what's liberation means to you..bolting up all the emotions is simply going to gnaw your brain from within and you will miss the chance of being who you could have possibly best been had you expressed.We all can do anything.We can all win incredible battles and sob irrespective the quality of it's audience.I watch the leaves and I often touch them to feel how fragile they are.
I touch the barks of trees that're damp form the endless drizzle they feel like sponges that has soaked up all the ocean.
I touch the lamposts along the way back home to feel how cold they are, they tingle the tips of my fingers till they're numb
I touch my stomach to feel the warmth it feels soft like ammama
I don't know how long ago she died,
I don't want to remember,
She might have died of not expressing.
she never died thought really,
she uses me to express herself...
through the warmth felt at the tips of my fingers on my stomach.