I am a college student with enormous energy to talk and act. I was in class three when I first wrote a story although it lacked traces of reality. It consisted of my imagination and rhymes. My parents were oblivious to the fact that I can write poems and stories, as I am a very secretive person. It was during my 12th standard examination when one of the invigilators found me of my scribbling on my question paper, a piece pertaining to the incidents of the Examination Hall. Since it consisted of blatant, ugly truths of the prevailing scenario of the Hall, I was reported to the Principal and my parents were summoned. That was how for the first time my parents came to know that I have a knack towards writing. I was censured, but simultaneously the externals did pat my back. And that's where I was propagated to take my writing seriously. It was my seat of Inception to Revelation of my Being through poems. It was an inexpressible feeling where I was chided as well as praised by my Principal Sir. This is why I kept on writing what ever popped up in my mind and penned down my thoughts about my family, nature, parents, feelings and even animals. I am not a poet by birth but I am a poet by situation. I love to write poems as they are my best means of expression and my pen is my best comrade.
Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the