It all remains just the same – The roads we measured, The shops we went to, The restaurants where we ate, The beach we enjoyed love, The buses we traveled in, The benches we sat on, The hands that you held, The body that you caressed, And the lips that you tasted, They all are still the same… How do you expect me to change, When they all still remind me of you??
A philosophical question for anyone who has an idea. Imagine my hands are a set of scales. In my right hand I hold this crazy little thing called love. You can choose anything you want to place in my left
Mystery within my seizure: Who are you? Who are you? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? I uttered these words during a seizure. Imagining you puts my mind under pressure. Searching for your identity is like a hunt
The pulse seems tranquil and still, But they don’t have blood in it filled. Strange, the brain is at bark within. Why this uneasiness seems like an attaching shark? I do sit and endeavour to settle it down, But for