Sediments are yet to be cleared
From the window sill of the days bygone
Handprints of an owner's ignorance
Remains carved on the glass alone.

Fossils of a lively refuge
Still masked by dust veils
Home, where once honey grew
Now marks the tombstone of loves's grave.

Novelty springs under
The eternal fountain of life
The creatures of days bygone
Stop to greet the future hive.

As I stand bare in rain,
There's one thing I noticed among the void
In this valley of desolation and pain
Humans fit in puzzles meant to get destroyed

As I stand across all alone
In this field full of flowers newborn
I know deep somewhere, fragments of hope
Wait for me still, down this heavenly *****

As I stand on top of this cold mountain
I know, I am no more lost again
The wind and stars is where I lie
So I'll keep praying for them till I die.

You have begun staring emptier than me,
the spiritual distortion leaves me speechless.
Of all the parts you could've picked,
You chose the mole right above my upper lip.
As if you have the power to remove
birth marks with an empathetic laser surgery...
And sometimes the gaze flutters down and up,
instantly to my eyes when the realisation hits,
and the void loses its ingenuity to greed.

The T in talent are pieces of tampered glass
Subjugated under capitalism,
And meticulously carving out worthlessness
  on the talented's carcass.

The A stands for all the crumbs of appreciation
You collect along your way, feeding your right and just pride
Humbled by a dilemmatic correlation
  of efforts and proudness.

The L is tricky, which maybe the love
Or the life that seeps into you through your work,
The ingenuity dies as L extinguishes,
  and you will bear the blame of the consequences.

Once you are done loving, you get greeted with E.
The empathetic reign you have grown from flesh and dust
Withers and begs for sympathy, waiting patiently
  for a high class judgement from the unnamed jury.

All the nihilistic N you preached,
Comes down to your questioning of moralism,
What great have you achieved with your nothingness,
  compared to someone sewing life with devotion?

The T in talent stands for the time
A soul wastes on fixing the tampered glass,
But someone like you who knows how to stand up,
  start with talent tomorrow, a journey from zero regardless.

If ever presented with a platter of choices
I shall choose a certain kind of calmness.
Unlike the one which holds leaves together before storm,
I choose the kind mingled on faces of ambulance drivers
Of my hometown.