Ashish Sharma Poems

The paint brush is moving in the air, creating creatures.
A big sized ball behind the wall, making signatures.
Ishaan's heart beats up, his mind shoots up doing literatures.
Books turns into flowers, insects turn into helicopters.
...

I don't want to cry,
My tears won't dry,
I was on high,
I was shy,
...

When I was young
I thought, i will earn money
When I become big
I will enjoy
...

When I speak
my words go deep
And she says, you are a creep.
...