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"Its quiet and lonely, inside out" |
Against the second hand, still racing.
With each beat of it, one melancholy strung
Along with her melody saddened and unrung.
The same old deepened familiar strain,
Alas, now has obliged into a recurring pain.
Now for what on this plentiful earth
Do I deserve this longing dearth-
Somewhere between the chambers
Of a once lively maestro of feelings?
I ask in feelings, not words to mess with
This sanctum within is trampled, broken, hit.
She now speaks to me in no harmony
Dared by it, is now one heart in agony.
Time heals a soul but not one second-
Am I in peace with my wounded friend!
Anticipation of one's return in this tide
Has turned me stone cold, morbid inside.
The weather I shall blame not, for it conveyed
Me mercy when you had reluctantly denied.
The cold breeze on one mesmerizing dawn.
Wished me a morning delight. At the lawn
Was one diligent drizzle which made way
To a nonchalant sun to make my day.
And when you had dried me off a lone spirit.
She, the bright blue sky kissed me to beat it-
That hunch which had dunked me in an abyss
From which a revival was one narrow miss!
Now I ask you for no pity nor one hoaxing love.
No sympathy nor empathy or a hunter's dove.
In that rare rain, the river had run rampant.
But with tears they have dried out- one last vent!
Even the callous cuckoos now lament this loss
Such is one terrible tragedy, an untold cause.
Perhaps I should've known this before
For I could've survived, leaving my heart for-
A life not in this void, never in this gelid orb
But beneath the ocean blue, above the stars
The life I've dreamt of, off which I've been robbed.
A Mirage in this chasm- a spiral in the relics.
