Runaway love

Runaway love

Runaway Love

Runaway Love

curving on the street’s end ,in the footpath’s bend
the lil kid is so cold and none’s around to lend
his feet all swollen , his eyes so blank
the fate of life written on his own hands
he tries to figure out y all’s so black
y everyone’s so mean and want to sack
y a world of dumbs is all he can find
y is everyone so harsh and not so kind
starin at the dirty walls in the back-street
he tries to find stars in his hand’s streaks
but all he finds are the scratches that burn
ashes from the past with memories so stern
memories of a mom who died without medicine
of a dad always drunk who never called him son
and as tears roll down his beautiful cheeks
death pities him and he’s so weak
opening the cold arms ,it embraces him
only to let him drown in a calm ,happy sleep

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When life goes on

And Life Goes On

The days have passed swiftly and nights have dragged on, morosely.

And I have seen – I have seen winters wither and summers bloom and dreams grow anew every spring. I have seen the dingy ceilings, stifling the air in it’s own arrest. And the heavenly meadows under an overcast sky, laden with flowers, colourful, and the grass, green, which sways with the gentlest breeze as if dancing to the symphony of time. And I have seen life shine in the mischievous sheen of your eyes when you smile.

I have seen days of optimism when everything entices you on to victory. And days when you give up on your dreams as the bitter reality hits you hard in the face. And you wake up from the cozy seat of your car to realize how harsh the wind is when the glass breaks. And the blood, when it trickles down, how it numbs all feeling of horror and fear and all your sensations try hard to concentrate on that far-away, blurred, blurring notion of something, somewhere that was once so beautiful that you had thought that it would suffice. And then, when the grief gushes and pours forth, tearing apart your restraints. But that too passes, and with a sigh, you give up…

…only to rise the next day with a renewed rigour and hope. And in this oscillation between hope and uncertainly, pure joy and dull misery, tiredness emanating from it all and at it’s consummation, another sense of fulfilment…amid it all, life goes on..