A body well taken cared of,
A heart, cold and desolate
A mind with wrangling thoughts,
A soul dying in despair.
Shoulders low tonight, lips mumbling,
‘I create problems for everyone,
No one is happy with me’,
A silent tear escaping his eyes, not mine to keep.
My heart demanding to embrace him,
My arms afraid to break the ‘conscious’ spell,
My words, hidden in the abyss of my musing,
A strange low voice combating his self-knit facts.
“What am I then?” said the Broken optimism,
seeking warmth and secret homage,
Quantifying the depth of the anchored emotions,
The soft corners for him were yet to fade.
The ‘Who’ had been replaced with the ‘What’ unnoticed,
The worth of life, not known to the blind self
I, silently rooted to my closed world
Your presence in my mind, Couldn’t say it back then,
‘You are good,
I don’t care even if you’re not,
You laugh at rare things,
Just the way you cry at them too
You attach yourself to none.
You care for a few teary eyes filled with pain,
You got that swelled up nerve on your forehead,
The frown lines showing the glimpse of all the stress.
You are like every other adrift being,
Who is too tired to look for a meaning,
Who is becoming the negative ideas of his essence
The one who is yet to find the peace.
You, my beautiful being, are a life,
A life, only you are born to live.