Chimes hung in there
Greeted it with pleasure
Leaves shed off
To feel its presence
Those dead pages
Again became alive.
The ominous moment of flowers
Fell apart from them
Then those hairs hid her face
That made her happy
Why was she?
Was she trying to hid her burn?
That burn which no more hurts
Even though it haunts her
Shadow seemed more beautiful
And a wonder
If she would have been a shadow
Nevertheless, those light share
That was bright enough
To let the shadow go off
And to show her
The burn that was the
Symphony of her life
There used to be a cacophony Of things that never found any words Ironical, ain't it? It's a harangue of unheard things! But how it has no words, When a pair of ears lend to you. A daunting task of all To tell someone why you are well you! As if you are this thing They can fix! Now who would tell them That we ain't any sadist, Or any lovers of melancholies We just stopped getting disappointed.
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