“At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” –Alberto Manguel

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Sunday, June 23, 2013

About Me

If you’ll ask me how is life?
I’ll say everything is just fine;
though there is something to be fixed,
something, I just cannot define.

If you wanna know what it takes to be me?
just walk into my shoes down the lane of memory;
read those torn pages wrapped in blues,
all about my ecstasy to win and fears to lose.

All the pain hidden under the scars;
that resides still silent in my core,
this is a small piece about me;
though there is so much, more.

I am a missing puzzle piece;
of a picture to make complete,
or may be am an incomplete picture;
with which nobody can relate.

I cannot define myself;
and I guess nobody can,
‘cause I am still looking for;
what the hell is my plan?

I am trying searching my existence;
all about what when and how?
this is a brief about me;
I wanted y’all to know.

~Shreya ♥

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Facebook

P.P.S. Written in insomnia.


  1. so you hold
    a story untold
    that urges me to explore
    what others have ignored..

  2. Discovering oneself is never ending, Shreya:)

  3. Yes, I suppose we all are searching for the meaning of life, and the what we want from ourselves. We just can't really define it, perhaps because we haven't found it yet.

    1. Completely agree with your comment.

  4. Nicely penned. You got the magic wand to make readers weep or laugh as per your choice . Tempted to know the cause (if any) of such pain that is held back most of the time !


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