Once there was no sky to turn up to, no land to let the feet rest only if the sun had bothered enough to hide in the universe’s wilderness, had you step out of your misery evident not by your face, your present, your hate, your undulating hum sulking in the nappier serving of my voice trying to seep in, wherever it may proceed like a forest fire on the day of dooms, you should have necessarily walked a step of reason, a direction, a commitment and conviction. Whose rest days are over yet he’s in sleep, his deeds point to you bearing anger in his nerves.
His gifts were ample, rising and shining in the palace of achievements, corroded sometimes by the emptiness of time, hidden sometimes by the honourable treaties of friendships and stolen sometimes by deceit and mistrust. If this is about an explanation as to what led to what, who assumed they deserved better, or time, special it might be, comes but with flowers squished to maintain the aroma of a better life, those roads leading to destinations free and safe, then it might be safe to announce that it’s a life where there is an empty space, time and a soul on roam.
Search for a better sleep is on and so is to find a being whose rhythm matches yours, whose kindness is to dig deep into you and bring out the diamond, whose need is not to overshadow your everything or to demerit you of your pain you endured to be not what others have become, neither to give you hopes encoded to make you imitate your heart to a chicken waiting death, but make sense of the day and the nights, living or dead, thought or no thought, you or someone else. You gave me nothing. I dared my uneasiness to open up for you, a leading edge returning me commonality, betrayal, hopelessness, failure, sadness, and you despite of all the hurt I offered you.
World was kind, and misguided I was. I led to you in all my powers, entrusted upon you my tears shivering me down my nerves and bounced back only to realise that the world hasn’t ended, the tears haven’t dried and the story isn’t concluded. The rise is yet to be ensured to the beneficiaries of such a relation. Dug deep in the silence of the soul is an eye wide open and voice singing lore of today, this very time is when the two meet and talk endlessly till the dusk doesn’t die and the dawn never comes. Let both of them get dry from the rains of pains, let not a sight bear the sign of fear and let not them go away without a necessity to live. World was kind, and misguided I was. I led to you in all my powers, entrusted upon you my tears shivering me down my nerves and bounced back only to realise that the world hasn’t ended, the tears haven’t dried and the story isn’t concluded. The rise is yet to be ensured to the beneficiaries of such a relation.
You couldn’t even have spiced a thought, a merry girl spotted of being a lantern on the chair, designated to stand tall, be known, be congratulated to be an oasis in the mid deserts, you didn’t even wanted to, you never ever desired, you never even frowned but accepted the vitality of perking around jerks, you were never gifted, you never ever deserved, nor I had a divine force to keep lifting you above the water, but still you are here, still meaninglessly drowning into the shanties of your rotten heart, your eyes sulked black in darkness, your voice embleming pristine tears out of sheer pain, incapability, unwillingness, lovelessness and infinite failure. A thread seems to exist about what’s written is not an ass’s job to execute, nor meaningless it should go if returned without a reception, I’m hitting back on earth through the power of these words to those morons whom you made yourselves. I really don’t need to, nor do I wish for an ultimate reputation from your side. I want you to be clearing the mist, erase a horrendous past, be prepared to the unfairness the world is yet to offer you and simply read this message.