Diva Kaur's Poetry and More

 something distracting you from all your worries, the feeling of living a fantasy, with pheonixs and unicorns, with wizards and queens on thrones, making you feel less alone. traveling in worlds unknown, reading till your eyes are sore, but your heart still wants more. all those unimaginable things that lure leaving you allured. it feels like a warm hug, one that makes you feel loved, it is but a book, changing the way the world looks. "a pen is mightier than a sword" they say, and i couldn't agree more the smell of a new book, nothing can beat the feeling of paper on which the author dreamt can still be felt losing yourself in the plot, oh what a lovely feeling it is, to be lost

 growing up from being children playing at the park, to being children that aren't afraid of the dark. time has passed and flown away, but my mother's love is still my safe space. wanting to be that kid again, the one who solved that maze, on that newspaper each day. the kid who didn't know what algebra was, the one who was scared of ghosts the most. the kid who thought fairies were real, and who's eyes would always have zeal. and would leave her milk tooth under her pillow hoping for a gift the one who wanted to grow up finding out about the world would throw up growing up seems appealing, but it is scary in reality. soon it would be time to fill applications and choose colleges, and study because my future depends on it. i still sit in the park and reminisce, of the absolute bliss. and the dark still scares me, and i still hope fairies exist. growing up is scary, especially the maths i have to study, but it helps when my mothers love secures me. one day, these days wi...

 chaotic, the waves of the ocean, a rhythm unmatched, never knowing what's going to happen, all one can do is watch, as the waves come crashing fast, instead of running, stay there, because it won't last they'll calm down, and go slow, match their pace, and you too will know, the chaos, that is hidden in beauty surreal, completely unreal

 sense and sensibility, sense is when i think with my head and sensibility is when my feelings take over instead. i cannot separate those two. and when i do, sensibility is the one i chose. but chosing sensibility means mourning all that is lost, and crying because sense was what i needed most

what is the point of watering the tree of life when the fruit is death? what is the point of a moment of happiness, when sadness is all we receive at the end What is the point of holding on till the last breath, if we'll die one day, just like our brethren What is the point of having hope when all we beget is our descend, what is the point of holding on to this last strand, when one day this too shall fall, along with us What is the point of sharing when all that it does is take from us. what is the point of our existence, if one day no one remembers our name? What is the point of friends if at the end its all ashes that accompany us. what is the point of love, if one day, it too leaves? what is the point of feelings, when they too, hurt us? What is the point of feeling at all. If it would hurt a lot less without it. what is the point of anything, then, if everything leaves and we get left?

  everyone is temporary, even you and me it might be hard to believe  that someday we just leave that someday we realise that forever is a lie that nothing stays here forever that everyone, everything will end one day or another  that life, the living and the non living ends eventually  that maybe one day we'll leave too  me and you.

 death is something we know exists  this is how we know it always ends yet the death of a loved one always makes us cry after all, we never imagine the people we love die we forget about the sorrow that'll happen in hopes to be happy while it hasn't  we cover our ears like a kid trying to forget that death exists  trying to ignore the voice saying they'll go trying to ignore the fact that the end may be tomorrow  we close our eyes making up "forever" lies just to save the tear for the day which is near for the end that'll tear forgetting the truth that lies within till the day we loose our brethren  we always wish we could've atleast said goodbye  but would a goodbye really ease the pain? would the goodbye make them stay? would that last goodbye make it all okay? will death really ease their pain? will the end be 'happy ever after' for them? will the tears of loss ever stop? will the blood of the pain  ever clot? will the weeping eyes ever recover...

 but we already know we're gonna die we just trick ourselves into thinking we've got a lot of time just to feel alive  and slowly, we start believing that lie  slowly, we feel death will never come by slowly, we miss our chance to say goodbye  and then slowly, death comes by and suddenly, the illusion is over the web of lies isn't there anymore  but it's too late by the time we know because now, we're not here anymore we feel, feeling alive is more important than facing the truth and hence wrap ourselves into a blanket of the word forever forgetting that we'd die the next moment  in hopes of making memories  that'll also be gone once we are turning into ashes

  we know that itll happen eventually  but still cry when it does  thinking it was sudden even though we knew it always ends like this thinking about the things we could've said to them when they were alive,  when they're dead we always trick ourselves into thinking everything will last forever just to save that sadness for the day it actually happens distracting ourselves from the ultimate truths making us feel that death is sudden when it actually is a process making us crying when it happens  because its a lot to process    making up theories about after life tricking ourselves that even in sadness is bliss when in reality, its just an empty pit. thinking that innocence is bliss whilst feeling like knowledge is power saving our tears for that hour never getting the closure because one day, we're all just over