I call it a result of good deed,
that somehow we met again,
For without you,
I wasn’t really feeling, that minute of pain.
On that gloomy Friday night,
amongst the shrill breeze of loo and rain.
I endured your body,
Perhaps your acceptance was smoother than any subtle chest pain.
You are soft,
torn & broken
but,you became a sourceful of inspiration
your shyness amidst in crowd,
leaves my unspoken.
I have seen you
in thick and thin lines
but there’s a sublime charm,
your eyes contained,
that many people never noticed & knew.
You have all the wisdom from past,
that your softskill professor still pass,
A dirty truth, lies there,
of not knowing yourself,
until you abide by this social venomous warned self contrast.
I miss the truth
you always contradicted your parents,
the grievances,yourself contained,
written in anger, fury or hatred,
those papers and penciled sentences,
could feel how a girl you silly were,
when you hadn’t over of your milktooth.
In every moment of your hips and arms,
how well you still remember,
that a lady made fun of your talent,
when she knew, you aren’t good at ‘right hand’ terms.
I feel you were unfit for world of repercussions ,
you are so weird,
impromptu to present day situations
hence can’t mingle in the fakeness of this entire discussions.
Hang on! a sphere of mistakes is yet to continue
a walk to any randomly paths, will guide you
your stars victoriously navigate to magics you indue.
Then, when you started penning your,
uncoloured dreams, I sensed a tone of sarcasm in your speech.
Boundaries cleared then,
of what you actually think.
You have lived in the world of hues,
Some days bright and some awfully grey,
Somewhere smiles and sometimes a frustrating cry,
Dreaming of her own melting dews
your golds, your ambers, and your blues,
that slightly changed one’s mental diffuse.
You’re irrespectively shining ahead of social theory,
still at heart ,hatred is somewhere blurry
and one day you’ll outshine,
the sphere with your glory.