Her Life

life is always a fog

In a world painted entirely black-and-white

Little Grey was abhorred

some may just wither and falter to the soil

some may bloom and reach high upon the sky

for some it is just another shell that awaits to be shed

for some it is a stone that filled with hidden gems

the world is nothing but a battleground

the singing of birds will never cease the war

demise all those tyrannies that keenly longed for the love of power

and the peace we need shall have the power of love

let these baleful heartstrings

be washed away

some are just too obtuse to fathom

i do not wish for them to plunge in deeper

for however many deep breaths it took

am in far too deep

so let the blunt be blind

of foreverness to keep the awakes with me

And mourners, to and fro,

Kept treading, treading, till it seemed

That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated,

A service like a drum

Kept beating, beating, till I thought

My mind was going numb

And then I heard them lift a box,

And creak across my soul

With those same boots of lead, again.

Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,

And being, but an ear,

And I and Silence some strange Race

Wrecked, solitary, here.

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down -

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing - then -

before,

i could care less when i saw pictures of people underwater.

but then it changed.

once i tasted what short on breath really means.

true, i appreciate life better than before.

but how do you say about this vivid memory i once experienced coz it just wont go away.

until you finally see

how -

the most wise turns

into such a fool

that's enough of a reason,

for me to stay strong, through it all

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

For only she desires

For what she deserves.

Things take turn

To change for the better

For it to be far more beautiful

Let the time be consumed

Let those turning tides be the serenity to your silence.