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Wasting time on silly little stuff,
Am not focused on What's up!
Digging up it all that's drowned,
Or dragging things all down,
It all hurts just the same;
Tears, shame and defame.
I should be focused right now,
Am dying to make it somehow,
And I am at all wrong things.
My mind just stays at them-him;
I should be turning pages,
Instead am clicking messages.
Somehow it helps in the flow,
At least I started to draw.
My heart found peace at the wrong door.
Happiness, security and more,
If only the door was mine,
If only I had that, I'd be fine.
I could have ceased not diseased,
The ultimate test would have been eased,
But now I fret as I couldn't get,
A chance so true without any fret,
I should be focused to clover,
Instead I am bowing to failure!
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"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." - C.S.Lewis.
YOU ARE READING
Khamoshiyaan
PoetryTHE VOICE OF SILENCE. Sometimes silence describes a situation far better than words ever will, Sometimes a strange set of words describe paints it years later; The limits are set and broken by the words , The reticence ,muteness and reserve let out...
