I would rather weave poems with ur leftover memories than.... being abandoned in a lively place with tears in my eyes. //When I was young, I fell in love We used to hold hands, man, that was enough//
You are like the wind, nowhere in sight and yet so crucial.... that I blamed myself selfish when i was selfless just to avoid leaving you in a long lasting melancholy. //We can do anything if we put our minds to it Take your whole life then you put a line through it//
I gulped the night and chewed ur fragnance.... when I decided to give up my solace in ur warmth n smile. // you know I just wanna leave tonight We can go anywhere we want//
Your name rests between my lips like a prayer.... as you were like a rare rainbow for me who showed up to cheer up my few moments but soon left me in despair. (ik a rainbow can never be the same again) //And then, oh, suddenly we turned twenty-three Now we got pressure for taking our life more seriously//
Mornings bring endless battlefields and.... and makes me realize that i have to be strong n rely on myself for my happines so that i dont let my smile depend on a passing rainbow. //Now I, I'm thinking back to when I was young Back to the day when I was falling in love
He used to meet me on the Eastside In the city where the sun don't set//
//The lyrics are from a song named EASTSIDE which had a special place in my heart//
When you practice gratitude it makes you look at things in a better way. Leaves will rumble when the wind is gusty, wilted ones too. And who says that a dead leaf isn't beautiful. Grey is always associated with Gloomy mood, I have great reverence for people who have decoded what grey is. I have great reverence for people who are resilient. Not everyone can tolerate and not break, but you don't have to tolerate when you have a mouth to speak, you should. Anger, sadness won't subside if you won't treat it. Silence could be an antidote but the hurt won't fade if you won't talk about it. When the grey clouds gather up in the sky they protect you from heat, sometimes the drops are forgiveness for your sins, sometimes the drops sting like nudges from Scissorhands. Many of us are not what we tell others, we picturise how we want to be perceived by others. Many of us don't talk about how we were bad to others but won't stop for a minute if someone does the same. When you get happier, you forget these things. It's so liberating to forget things, to forget how people looked, how they sounded, how they had lit up your day once and how they ended up ruining you.
As I have already said, a poet is a poet only when he is writing a poem. I will be a human again as I go back to have lunch and forget about what I had written.