Crossroad

I write or better to say just scribbles randomly.

Seeing others writing poems rhyming and decorated with intricate and complex words,

The jaw-dropping poem of intelligent poets.

I delete, I edit, I delete, I edit and many times backspaces.

And the cycle goes on....but still, the satisfaction is far apart.

Struggling and making attempts to write like them I sit on my laptop for hours.

The blank screen in front of me stares and asks," do you really wanna......no one will like it."

In frustration, I ask others to tell my weakness even though it hurts a lot to hear I lag far behind.

Maybe I chose the wrong road or maybe this wasn't meant for me.

I don't know why but I am still running aimlessly on this road.

Maybe my feet don't wanna turn back or Maybe it's too late to turn 'em back.

The path next to me is little hazy and the fog is making it harder to see the surroundings things.

My feet hurt a little but I am still far behind in this race.

I don't know, I can't decide

Maybe I should turn back.

The thoughts I am trying to develop maybe they aren't meant for me.

But then the next thoughts come in," Priya isn't it a cliche excuse given by cowards."

If I turn back, won't it be cowardice????