Don't say its the end of the road
I see a small girl standing there
I could see her calling me;
Her polka dotted dress looks familiar
Did I have one when I was a kid?
I was scared to approach her;
But I wanted to tell her something
doubt if she can understand;
My sorrows and pain are her toys
for my unforgiven consciousness
I stood still...
I could feel her touching me
Shivering in the cold of the touch
I listened;
She whispered a song..
I sang along...
Can you leave me behind?
seeing you in the mirror
spending days in darkness
come out to feel the warmth.
Hold my hands under the sun
Let us sing for the moon to come
I doubt its full moon today
Dream will come true someday
Go away you little Girl..
am Drowning...in guilt..in pain..
pull me to the past ;
take awaymy pain;
Let it go...I want to feel the rain..
3 comments:
Dew drops,quite affectionately, had been clinging to the last of those roses. Caresses of the misty gale had turned the dusty earth to chocolate mud. But, tear drops were racing ahead of my moist eyes. That morning, I wasnt enchanted by nature's satiric pulchritude, neither in its quixotic hopefulness, but fighting with the breeze....... WHY?Why did nature stop breathing life into my lovely sister, why doesnt she smile with her dimples curling bright, why am i left to see myself again.....all alone...
and then I found the rose bud swinging wide, while withered away were those other roses and long gone decayed..and I knew, i have to move on... and keep breathing to meet a day when i forget to ...thats life. The misty gale still blew hard.
who is this anonymous dew drop??
....Again scribbling from the anonymous desk. Also, my apologies for an addled expression of my feelings.
I had used metaphor, which in my language ( samvidhayakante kaiyil ninnu cinema kai vittu poyi ) could be petitely mentioned as a fiasco.
I was trying to portray my past as something akin to the bereavement of someone dear.
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