by shalinijena

Its madness I think.
This fascination with my worst enemy.
Ashes made of bronze and mixed with gold
Here it is.
Laughing oddly,
at my quest to explore.

Fly, fly.
But where to in this weather?
This body made of flesh and blood,
This mind made of a million nerves
That jest for value
in its sublime times called youth.

Oh, there goes the story told and untold
How tiring one must wonder this heart to be.
Cool down, the summer days.
Pitter patter on my roof a little, they say.
Remember to not just make it rain.
Do you hear me?
I beg.
To not make it rain like a tornado yet.

Where will I go, you wonder. Don’t you?
I guess it will be death like its supposed to.
Laugh, laugh.
Its never I who mattered anyway.
I give up today,
on life in its ephemeral state.
But its just shutting down the shutters
that bugged with the night’s buzzing mates.
I am not over yet.
So don’t you worry.
I am not over yet..