Writing

Not knowing what to say,

Not knowing what to write. 

It has never been the issue.

Having too much to pour out,

That endless train of musing, 

It goes on a journey 

From too much truth to heartache. 

Putting pen to paper is like,

A vacuum to the heart. 

In the end there’s a dirty bag of poetry, 

And a soul drained of all emotions. 

© Abirami 

I’m starting a Web Series – Feedback Please!

This has been a long thought in progress and I’ve finally decided to stop being lazy and go for it! Writing random posts every day is not as satisfying as having to be regular to this precious little blog. And I’ve always wanted to write a series. So what do you guys think? This is something I will only do after taking into consideration all of your feedback. And thank you for the amazing response I’ve been getting lately. 🙂 It truly means a lot.

The story revolves around a girl who takes subreddits and discussion threads way too seriously. A millennial who lets social media influence her major life choices. I will post one episode a week. The story will stay as light as possible without too much heavy drama. But when we’re speaking of a teenage girl, there’s got to be at least a little drama, right? 😀

Is this something you might enjoy? Please let me know what you’re thoughts are. Any feedback or suggestions is much appreciated.

– The Obsessive Writer

Complete 

Have you ever felt so complete? 

A heart so full that it could explode,  

Into little pieces of nerve wrecking joy.  

Sometimes it’s a good thing

To feel the weight of the world on your shoulders,

If it is your little girl asking for rides on your back. 

Sadness can be a happy emotion

When it is felt for the loss of a loved one

You are lucky to have loved and lost.

Shot up nerves is the rawest of passion

When you’re on that first date,

And you can’t get over his smile.

© Abirami
 

Inside Out

I write away my sorrow

It is the only way I know.

Spilling ink thicker than blood.

Leaving behind words in place of scars. 

They said, Be the change and the world will follow.

I pretend to be reborn.

I tell myself that I am the change.

And the world did follow,

On Instagram to mock at my expense.

Some people see a few familiar faces and call it home.

What if I need to look at hearts and not faces?

When I look through those chunks of rock

Will I still be able to tell them apart?

This mind of mine colourfully black and white,

Scatters them into piles of two

They all judge me for my depth

Some look at my pockets and some my poetry. 

© Abirami

Masks

Who’s turn is it today?

Will it be,

The ambrosial lover, or the mad cynic? 

The unforgiving critic, or the loyal advocate?

The curious child, or the unimaginative adult? 

A different mask a different day. 

Take it off and what are you? 

A reflective vessel of scars and hopes. 

© Abirami