Sometimes I wonder
If shooting stars
Are the santas to our wishes
Or just punishment to men.

Shooting stars,so seldom, so rare,
Are believed to be the core of our prayers.
However, whenever a star passes by,
A man on earth is judged by the stars.

Pictured as bloodshed
The word 'war' is fear by all
Everything that one can think of
Environment, Economics,Politics
All joins in the fray

Country against country
War begins
Sending dancers of death into the battlefield
Changing the landscape, death to all
Leaving behind a stage , full of agony

What can we say,
When wars are waged,
Both sides are equally just.

'Like' is just word,
from a mutual perspective.
'Love' is instead, a feeling
Incomprehensible at times.

At times,
We feel that love should never happen
As it leads us down
The wretched hallway of pain.

True happiness lies in the correct doors we unlock.
For those who are scarred,
Afraid,
Demoralised,
Anguished at the past,
Not daring to take the steps.

Looking back at the past,
Mostly regretful
Totally.
Then comes the pain,confusion,
like the twisting mealstorm it swirls.