The Clock struck twelve
But I know not, how to let these thoughts shelve
How else do I plea
When everything seems to disagree?
Eventually attesting the words of my allies, that it’s not my cup of tea
But does anybody really know, what to do, where to go?
For nothing here is making sense
And all I see is endless
Yet, for once I think, for once I want, for once I wish
Being the best of me is not an act too childish
And every desire of mine is a dream come true
With a never ending hope that guides me through and through
Alas! this imagination of mine is put to work
Always in the dark
Unaware of all the ifs and buts that lurk
Waiting to make a sharp remark
So is the culprit really my mind, where all my thoughts are confined?
Or is it the fault of me and my present combined
That drags me back, to a world so unkind?
Oh this war of thoughts, struck the peace of silence
And the rebel rises in the form of my poetry
For my pen doesn’t know how to stop,
It goes on and on!
It goes on and on!
.
