My Writing Norms

Cornered in fusing abundance

Trapped in ebullience mystified

Or wander in wanting hollowed self

Alone in dullness liberalized

Try to set me free from thoughts

With some prospective find

Or push me further into grinds

With stories from the hind

.

.

Frenzied or jaded words I pen

Heightened at their best

I pour it all in that adience

And soothe my soul in haste

To close my eyes for a heavy sigh

Jubilating over vibes in glee

Or grieve for some sorrow deep

To tend to self and see

.

.

In a while they dress different

And soon they cause no glee

Or stir me with their cast

Whatever form they be

Leave me deeply wounded

With their unappealing forms

I search more meaning in them often

And rethink my writing norms.