Some think they will not die
despite all the evidence to the contrary.
Death is not part of their plans;
and consequently they are fatally flawed.

Taste has a relation with our tongue! The latter is a perfect example of God's grandeur scattered around in different shapes! This is a flexible spoon! Whatever you wish for it carries down the throat: Apples, papaya, nuts, pulses, toffees, vegetables and even chicken fry! Work easily done! No pain! No itching! No coughing!
Does it take poetry in too? Stupid question! You will say! Ya! This is the matter of the soul! Question right! But the soul doesn't tell this is bland, salty, sweet or pungent! Its tongue works invisibly! You must tell at least how poetry is! This is like butter! This is like cheese! This is only dry fruits! None will utter anything even the lovers of poems!
They say this is something heavenly! Its taste can't be described! This is the special taste for the soul! How! Now words!

This is life.

You learn to hide everything behind your eyes so you don't cry.
You learn to laugh at anything and everything so no one sees your weakness.
You learn that giving in means giving someone the power to hurt you.

But at the end of the day, you're just as messed up as the rest of them.
There will be days when you will lie broken at someone's feet, nights you will soak your miseries into their shoulders.

And when you've nothing left in you, you can only hope that they will hold you and kiss your eyes so you know you're still beautiful.

Well, the trip is done.
I’m down to earth.
Head no longer
kissing clouds.
My feet hurt,
cause they are
kicking up dirt
instead of
dancing in the air.

one more surge of the Sun and I could be a hero
warmed up to perform one more miracle
I would let loose all the powers of my heart
if only, if only, if only

You are the invisible forces I have no choice but to bend to.
I don't want the strength to move mountains,
just to move the shadow cast over your heart.

Write what you feel.*

Heaven knows no one else will.

How do you react
But with utter sadness
And sorrow when
You're given a time frame?

When there's a time stamp
On your life as you know it,
How do you act around
Your family and friends?

Do you spend the six weeks
That you've got left,
Moping and sulking,
Or making the most of every moment?

It's hard to focus on success
When you know the ultimate reality
That you're being faced with,
And quite frankly, it *****.

Your life went from whatever
Normal may be for you,
To living every moment
On a severely impairing time crunch.

Six weeks, seven at best,
But regardless, it's not enough time.
You need time to cope,
Time to heal mentally.

You need time,
But that's the one thing you don't have.