Unwritten

Memoirs of unwritten verses, 

Waiting to find the words; 

Feelings of unrequited longings 

Couldn't be put on paper. 

A dream trip you never took, 

A half-done hobby or a book, 

A few scribbles, 

A friendship 

Without a closure to comfort you?

Do they matter at all?

What troubles our nights?

In the hollow emptiness of your mind 

The sleepless soul asks in an echo,

"What are we? Who are we?"

An accumulation of particles 

Forming a shape and mind, 

Floating insignificantly in the universe 

Loathing in superiority and pride.

© Suranya



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