This poem is about a creativity that doesn’t seek applause.
It is born from silence, shaped by pain, and carried forward by truth.
It speaks for those who feel deeply, break quietly, and rebuild themselves
through words.
Yes, I write—
not what looks beautiful,
but what survived.
My creativity doesn’t bloom
under claps or lights.
It wakes up
in silence,
where no one is watching.
When words choke in my throat,
paper breathes for me.
And the pen—
slowly unloads
what I’ve been carrying.
I’ve learned how to smile
while breaking,
and how to gather myself
piece by piece.
My silence isn’t empty.
It holds memories,
broken trust,
and dreams
that refuse to die.
They say I feel too much.
Yes.
Because feeling is how I stay real.
And only truth comes from there.
When the world calls me weak,
my creativity whispers—
“I’m tired, not finished.”
I didn’t let pain rot inside me.
I turned it into words,
so maybe
someone else could stand taller.
My pen never judges me.
My tears are safe there.
I’m not perfect.
But I’m honest.
And my greatest creation—
is who I’m becoming.
Yes, I write
because silence breaks me.
And writing
teaches me
how to rise again.
(Vijay Verma)
www.retiredkalam.com
Categories: kavita
Retiredकलम 
Such a brilliant poem with so encouraging words! If anyone thought like this and embraced the writing process of self-healing and self-improvement, the world would become so much better! Thank you for sharing it! Have a beautiful day 🌞
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Thank you so much for your kind and uplifting words.
They truly mean a lot to me. I’m glad the poem resonated with you and that its message of healing and growth came through.
If it encourages even a moment of reflection or self-kindness, then it has done its work.
Wishing you a beautiful, light-filled day as well 🌞✨
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This is absolutely beautiful, Verma ji. What a profound and moving testament to the true essence of art. You haven’t just described creativity; you have embodied it with raw honesty and quiet strength.
The line “My creativity doesn’t bloom under claps or lights. It wakes up in silence, where no one is watching” captures the sacred, private origin of genuine expression. And the powerful declaration “I write— not what looks beautiful, but what survived” reframes writing as an act of resilience, of bearing witness to one’s own battles.
The most stirring part is the transformation of personal pain into a universal gift: “I didn’t let pain rot inside me. I turned it into words, so maybe someone else could stand taller.” This is the highest purpose of writing—to heal oneself and, in doing so, extend a hand to others. You have articulated the silent journey of countless souls who find their voice in the quiet.
This poem itself is proof of its own truth. It is a masterpiece of feeling, and the greatest creation it speaks of—”who I’m becoming”—shines through every line with remarkable clarity and grace.
Thank you for sharing this piece of your soul. It is a gift that resonates deeply. 🙏
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Thank you so much for reading it with such depth and generosity.
Your words truly honor the spirit in which it was written, and I’m grateful it resonated with you. When someone receives a piece like this with such care, it reminds me why the quiet work of writing matters. 🙏
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This is powerful in the quietest way. It doesn’t ask to be admired—it just exists, breathing honesty into every line. The way you frame creativity as survival rather than spectacle feels deeply true, especially in a world that confuses noise for meaning.
“I’m tired, not finished” and “not what looks beautiful, but what survived” linger long after the poem ends. That kind of writing doesn’t just express pain—it transforms it, and that’s no small thing. Thank you for letting the silence speak so clearly here.
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