, if you get hurt in this world,
but you do get to choose,
the people you hurt.
Choose wisely.

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He just wanted a Hazel for his life,

But eventually, he got Rhea.


*Eulogies in advance*

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She: We are just friends, okay?
He: okay.
She: okay.
He: Stop flirting with me!
She: okay.

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Might be it's the fault in your stars,

That made even the crossed-stars
make fault less stars of love.

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I am a good person but a
shitty writer.
Oh yes, I am.
What?
You all thought this to be writing?
Where I don't even know
where a single
period will go or these exclamation marks
dance upon my head along
with a bouquet of words hanging
around waiting to be put at right places
and then I leave a line,
to make it symmetric because
I like to write in an organized manner
while my heart itself
is a chaotic mess
and nothing else so
what my writings actually are
nothing else but an
organized form of the chaos in
my heart fabricated with words.
No my friend,
this is not writing.
Can this resonate in your heart
even when it ended a long time
ago?
Can this be read again because you
liked a particular line so much
that only reading it again
provides you the pleasure?
If yes,
then I am a writer
but still
a shitty one.
Welcome to the world of words
of a shitty writer,
eh.

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Maybe, the fault isn't in our stars,
Maybe it is in not knowing that we are meant to be one.

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