PENNED IN INK, THE PARAGRAPHS DRAFTED IN PROSE & PRONOUNS

Prose & Pronouns

I always composed verses in poetry. Ever since I could conjure the memory of my youth. Where the sentences sounded like music. Penned in ink, the paragraphs I drafted in prose and pronouns and sometimes with crayons. With narrated undulation, I could speak through the ballads of trial and recollect. Overcome with words that murmured like sonnets and every breathing moment smelled like choruses.

I remained diffident for sure. Learned to counterfeit the confidence for a very, very long time, the assured demeanour, to muster up the courage, I carried like armour. But in the interim, while all breath lay dormant, deep in the crevices of my nocturnal routine, like a prowess, a mastery emerged out of the depth of my abdomen. Didn’t even know it existed, that it called for me repeatedly. It roared like wildcat.