What is in your fate, will be in your plate.
It is nothing but a waste of time,
comparing yourself with others,
being happy at their loss;
and sad at their gain.
Tangled between emotions
Her feelings ignite the passion
The soft melody of her breathe
Melts in the warmth of her hug
A feeling of eternal bliss
Her love pouring down like heavy rain
Wetting every dry inch of the heart.
Sprouting on the wretched soul,
Songs of harmony and love.
A breeze of freshness she is,
An unexpected drizzle of delight,
How many more wonderful things she is,
it is just so hard to describe.
The price of being good is to remain silent and suppress your existence. The moment you speak or think for yourself you become bad and selfish.
This too shall pass,
Yet another assurance to give,
But, still the same old chores.
A mundane soul wanders around,
Buried under mediocrity and overwhelm,
Breathing upon self condolences
That hardly last any long
A search for self peace, becomes
yet another matter of stress.
Never mind the extra burden,
A detour, a short break, little smiles,
Few moments of delight,
But, everything becomes null,
As arrives yet another dreadful night,
For tomorrow anxiously awaits,
The same old mundane routine.
This too shall pass, this too shall pass,
the feeling of hollowness,
flowing through the blood.
resonance of a palpitating heart,
striking in the empty body shell.
fear gushing through the vein,
choking every cell of hope.
in the darkness of a brightly-lit room,
continues the vain search for life.
Through mediocrity and self doubts,
Vandalism of our own true self,
Through the judgemental eyes,
Self inflicted humiliation and defeat,
It is a story everyone lives from within;
Only few of them escape,
Rising above every self limiting,
Energy draining, negative thought,
No audience, no panel of judges,
Amidst a dead, pin drop silence,
Applauding their own piece of art.