We are strange,
Veiled and disguised in our own rage.
We act friends to strangers,
Its spring & we are not exchangers.
Ready to walk an extra mile,
& pleasantly amused by perpendicular style.
As the time passes by,
We become die hard exchangers,
"I" creeps in again,
Tit for tat replaces humor to carry on with I-am-better chain.
Fresh wounds and stale relations,
Again loner searches for fresh pastures,
Vicious circle has its own amplifications.
As we progress forward,
Our cold heart stands still.
Years after,
We take solace that we are not attached,
& fail to see that who is attached to us.
People would have been happy,
Weekends would have been merry,
If we would have just grinned,
& just let it go.........
No comments:
Post a Comment