Sometimes morning writings are valuable in their own way, because they make you think about the transitioning night. Over the last couple of days as the semester finally ends today I have been faced with people who are disappointed with things, people or situations in general. People who have lost hope in more than one way and those who have looked at wallowing away from disappointments. Some who have had the hardest times making decisions, some who have been lost in misunderstanding and anger somewhere and some who have just failed to communicate. Whatever be the reason I have reason to think we have all been at places where we wouldn't want to be and couldn't help being. And no matter who helped you whether a family or a friend you choose to include in your lives or even if you are just waiting for the phone to ring there are more reasons to be Storytellers than to be quiet. So get writing today, write about your anguish and pain, about losses with no restrain.
Storytellers' Nostalgia
Oh writers of the night, the call for nostalgia in the morning blue,
The dawn and dusk of the fairy tale ending, and of some things that I write to you
Warm hugs from a thousand miles seems untethered for a little while,
The hand that touches no one, just it knows not of anything else, but to write
Four fifteen in the morning time, the unending riddles keep coming back to me,
We have been fighting for a long time now, we keep remnants of little things that sets us free
We are lost in between the first and the last, we have been good to so many in time,
That we have changed in bits and pieces as of yet, till very little of us was left behind.
We have chosen families sometimes, we got to keep the friends,
We are the little happiness you found in school, when we were kids and there was still recess
You would jump up to me and we could remember so much and so little at times,
And yet most of what we kept was just between ourselves, the world was on the other side
Write to your anger tonight, to your disappointments that didn't come through,
That went on like long chapters with no end and grammars that needs to be edited too
Write about your anguish your pain, your open heart will fill pages when you don't even know,
Because you are more than sum of parts, you are the best of yourself which you don't show.
Storytellers' Nostalgia
Oh writers of the night, the call for nostalgia in the morning blue,
The dawn and dusk of the fairy tale ending, and of some things that I write to you
Warm hugs from a thousand miles seems untethered for a little while,
The hand that touches no one, just it knows not of anything else, but to write
Four fifteen in the morning time, the unending riddles keep coming back to me,
We have been fighting for a long time now, we keep remnants of little things that sets us free
We are lost in between the first and the last, we have been good to so many in time,
That we have changed in bits and pieces as of yet, till very little of us was left behind.
We have chosen families sometimes, we got to keep the friends,
We are the little happiness you found in school, when we were kids and there was still recess
You would jump up to me and we could remember so much and so little at times,
And yet most of what we kept was just between ourselves, the world was on the other side
Write to your anger tonight, to your disappointments that didn't come through,
That went on like long chapters with no end and grammars that needs to be edited too
Write about your anguish your pain, your open heart will fill pages when you don't even know,
Because you are more than sum of parts, you are the best of yourself which you don't show.
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