You arrived with a bang,
Brought lights and colours,
Turned my world upside down,
Drained my eyes of tears,
Created muscles on my cheek,
And did surgeries on my heart.

But,

When you left, the colours dulled,
The lights switched off,
The tears kept on flowing,
The stitches in my heart reopened,
The smiles for you disappeared,
And the warm summer became cold.

Woe, my worthless self.
Woe, thy present distress,
Woe, thy miserable fact,
That thou knit in the past.
Woe, thy hunger to accomplish,
Thy enthusiasm to will and be,
Blame thyself of short  efforts,
Of a selfish desire that matters.
Woe, for thou, as a selfish being,
Living a lie, without seeing,
Further than a wish, a dream.
Wishing upon a sun,
that'll never rise,

Or,

Beam.

There are times I wonder,
If the twisted imaginations,
I hold so dear,
Will one day be more than stories,
But then I realise,
They were real first,
But I banished them,
To live within fictional worlds,
Where they can do no more harm.