Caress the words, put them to bed
Sing them a lullaby and send them off to sleep.
For a better tomorrow, a new story.
A fresh start, another beginning.
Spinning words, entwining lines on paper
Putting ink dots, crossing all the T’s
In a single file, like military.
Words will rise, from the ashen mouth
Words will rise, like the sun in the sky
From the womb of the horizon and shine.
Who is there but me for you?
Little bitter, but with love so true.
Catch me off guard, if you ever will.
Never will you see me again, down the alley of tribute
Gone are the days of pardon
Gone are the days of mercy.
You will die for betrayal, if ever
And I will smile as they put you out.
The city is not what they claim it to be
People are not what they seem to be.
Sadness doesn’t last forever
And happiness is not a reality
Erasing memories is difficult
More difficult is when people just get up and leave
Life is short, as they all say
So why does each second passing by feels like an open wound
Just waiting to bleed out.
City has people, walking it’s paths
Crosses and intersections
Buildings turned into homes
Life breathed into the concrete jungle
And without them, the city will fall.
Love is not as blissful as the stories claim it to be
It’s sadness and longing mixed into one.
The utter bother of it all, breaks the heart into two.
Just like time, a ticking wound.
The days of freedom, I have never known
Days of reckless joy, breathless laughter is beyond me
Those summer days, carefree ways
What are they but words to me?
Something to long for, to earn from life
Caged, we see the winter moon
There is no spring to welcome the warmth
The yellow streak, the natural light
The hope it brings, the celebration of rich harvest.
Those summer days are always tomorrow
And today we face the snow.
Someday, when I wake up, I will have a smile on my face
Someday, something will make me feel joy in life
That day, will come, now or never
I dont know.
But I Know, I have lived that day, in my head
The smile is a smile of distant dreams
A world of my own, fragments, a hint of laughter
In the crispiness of the crust of the pie I relish
And yet deny, in penance, of being happy in my dreams.
To the mood and back
I go, whenever I think, of you
Moon looks at me too.
I planted garden of thorns
To make my veins bleed, till dry
So numbness can take over.