To die a little bit every day becomes a habit after a while
Like a wild flower withering in a lone field under the sun
Unknowingly awaiting for small drops of rain
To quench down an invisible thirst, an unseen yearning....
To fake down laughter and smile
Becomes exhausting on the long run
For there remains on the heart a little pain;
A little pain that amplifies at times, without logical understanding...
To keep on living and walking
When the heart has gone sore
Is like walking with a pebble in the shoe, striving to continue
Even if the horizon seems to be dark ahead...
Gloom remains close by, stalking
Over the soul that hopes no more...
Maybe someday Life will regain its former texture and hue
But grey tints now remain in every word, written or said...
No comments:
Post a Comment