The time has changed, for sure.
Icy cold becomes my heart in summers;
Like a dead flower in spring my soul withers.
Burning fire the rain ignites in me, for real.
A lot more warmer winters make me feel;
New energy autumn evokes in me.
Has the order of the effects changed?
Is it just what happens to me?
I’m stuck in this maze called world. The roads are never ending and the directions are misleading. I can’t seem to find my destination. Am I lost? Am I on my way to my destination? How do I answer these questions? For I can’t seem to fathom a thing around me.
Somedays I feel like I have arrived at my destination. Some days I believe I did not even start my way. Some days I wonder if I’m lost in the wild woods.
You don’t know me. I’ll tell you who I am. I am the docile little lamb. Deserted from the affection I desired, deprived of the motivation I aspired. I run hither and thither, scared. Thoughtlessly.
I’ll turn to the right and devour disappointment. I’ll turn to the left and taste failure. I’ll take a ‘U’ turn and savour remorse but in the end I will head straight. I’m naive but brave. I will learn from the world, snap out of the twigs. I will emerge, I will evolve.
Somedays you don’t feel like starting your day at all. The bitter coffee you liked starts stinging your taste buds. The same friends whom you confided in seem like the most deadly foes you ever had. You juggle to find out who to entrust your secrets with.
The spring breeze that you earlier waited for seems to rip your soul apart, the pitter patter of the rains that delighted you now rings through your ears as if splitting your delight. Nontheless, you have embraced the cold, chilling, dead winters. Now you look around the four black walls of anxiety around you and you repeat, “This is where I belong. This is my safe haven. The dead cold winter is who I befriend now.” All these humans walking around resemble half dead zombies, heartless and emotionless. They have got nothing to do with you. They couldn’t care less to glance twice in your direction.
The demons inside you gnaw and snarl at you. They’re overpowering that last little dry leaf of hope and will left in you. And then the leaf, lacking perseverance falls off and you drift, slowly drift and drift furthermore into the surreal world of withdrawal and pleasure.
You equip it with everything you ever desired, never accomplished and forever longed for. That is when you realise YOU, only YOU have the power to control and possess your soul. You, my dear, are the only one who’s got your back. You are the only one who you can always turn to. You are the master and the Creator of your own surreality.
I’m not hesitant in extending myself to those in need. I’m not scared of reaching out to those in distress. I do not fear not being acknowledged for doing so. All I am scared of is actually getting nothing in return. All I’m scared of is losing the strength that I’d be needing for my own being in the end. All I am scared of is ending up exhausted and consumed.
He sat there ogling those wild waves,
To be with her still he craves.
But oh boy! What’s gone is gone,
The truth for now is that you’re forlorn.
The if’s and but’s won’t work either,
For you have lost your only treasure.