It is a surrealistic art
Painted by us with each sentiment's shard
Colours splayed on mind's canvas,
Inked by every ideological sketch.

We create beauty with words
As we continue to painstakingly etch.
Enlightening people with wisdom's shreds.

We are the Gods and Barns of this art,
This renowned art of Poetry.

A key unlocks my music box,
My heart unwinds with a song.
A sweet melody of ecstasy
Tuned with a withdrawn note.

I close the music box, erelong.
Melancholy hangs onto my soul--
With sheer mindset of right and wrong.

Thus, I break the key and box
Setting myself free
Forever and long.

You left me on a shelf
As if I am a doll, asking for help.
Locked up in a golden cage
Of despair and dread.
I lose my breath of heart ache
Deep down, I lose my head--
As it overflows with a dire bitterness

A withered leaf falls free.
Free of a century lamenting
And spent his time repenting
"Freedom from life",
He cries with glee.

Do you feel my pain?
Do you feel my rage?
Each time I strongly abstain,
From pushing you away in a gilded cage.

Burning splinters of my heart, now decorate
Your loving memories with disdain.
My feelings wax and wane,
When I see you again.