What is this tremor
I feel inside me,
An intuition of the time
To shine from within,
Brand new life I see
Through the wisdom
Of my ancient spirit…
The worst experience
Gives the best abilities,
The best memories
Becomes the worst weaknesses.
Such is the irony of living
We love to ignore,
But it always come true
With no exceptions…
The love of my heart is all yours,
To the distance that keeps us apart,
I give my word without a spite,
I will reach you before the end of time…
On a rainy day
With a gloomy way
I turn myself to you
As my heart wants me to…
On a rainy night
It’s a melancholy sight
I hold myself tight
As it is easier to hide the plight…
The pills that you take to make yourself well,
Are they really a cure or a new bane?
I take one and I get effects that are conveniently ” side “.
I take two and I get dependent on it,
Still it doesn’t take away the real problem.
The doc say why not try three!
Is it the real cure for years of suffering?
Is it real antidote for life long illness?
The doc sees me for a min or two and announces that I am hysterical,
But who would not be hysterical if they are dying inside,
Who would not be hysterical if they are being torn apart each and every moment of the day.
Is the pill a remedy for an age old curse?
If it was the real medicine then life would have had an antidote too…
The young heart knows not much,
It follows the attention.
It cannot distinguish good from bad.
It just follows the path of impulses,
The young heart persevere,
It persevere even if it hurts,
It can’t let go, it can’t let it flow.
The young heart is pure and naive,
And it always fall for the trickster.
It is the irony of love
As it takes you down before it takes you high.
Young heart learns soon,
Young heart understands soon,
That most of the times you have to choose to love what is good for you…