An Escape
My words were empty,
A shivering body with a cold heart.
I tried to speak,
but the paralyzed thoughts couldn’t move.
None of my actions helped.
Great forces were turned down
by this rigid disease of solitude.
There was no escape.
When wandering & wondering didn’t help,
and a frozen state of despair persisted,
there came the cold breeze of art.
Breaking all the shackles, it pumped my heart.
I finally found my escape.
Nothing remains enslaved when creativity dictates.
Authentic, true and unique must we create,
for our own creativity to liberate.
More poems by Jagrit
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