Pretending it wasn’t over, was not going to be much use, For, to feign forgetfulness, was not his cleverest ruse, The floods had stopped, but the wreckage remained, And everything around him, had forever been stained. Over time, even the
Tired of running this race, every single day, You wish, for a while, the time would just stay, Or atleast wish you had a stronger pair of legs, Ever thought, what a boon it is, to simply walk? Tired of
You know it not, by the darkness of night, You hear it not, so does its footstep fall, You hope you can see it in the brightness of day, So you sleep, hoping morning will solve it all. But the
When darkness becomes a stranger to the night, And there no longer is an end to broad daylight, When the moon and the stars separate upon a fight, And yet he never doubted his future was bright. If there was
It was trivial, I though it didn’t even merit such a fight, She thought not, and refused to acknowledge my plight, I tried telling her, that she knew not all the facts, Unconsciously, she told me, that I knew nothing.