Two developers developed a game,
Game was real but the players were insane.
The goal was easy...to reach the paradise portal,
But only at once, because the players were mortal.

Going to paradise portal was tough,
Because the routes of honesty were rough.
Love, honesty, sacrifice were the different levels,
To reach the paradise players had to travel.

The other cunning developer not wanted players to win,
He added shortcuts carved from sin.
Poor players, tired of the game,
Chose the shortcuts to ****** some fame.

The shortcuts were betrayal, lies, and killings,
And players leapt in by their own willing.
They dreamed of heaven, but the truth did tell:
The shortcut’s gate was the doorway to hell.

Every day —
I pass a hundred faces,
With eyes that flicker with stories
I’ll never get to hear.

Once in a while, travelling in the local,
Questions pop into my mind without my permission...

Do we ever realise?

The people we meet for the first time
might be our last chance to have their glance.

Strange... to wonder if they ever mattered, ever cared.

Do they know?
That this was our only meeting?
That this smile
was our first and final exchange?

We keep living,
like we have time—
like we don’t say goodbye to Strangers.
But, unfortunately,
we just never see them again.

And that’s why I’m afraid to call you a stranger.
Because, you know what?
I don’t want you
to be that stranger in my life
ever.

The one who leaves without care,
who disappears into distance...
Where are those promises, those talks, those glances?

Even if someday... we became strangers,
please be the one who might leave my heart—
but never my soul.