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random-aai3hPoems
Hello Stranger She was smiling at me while turning the pages of the book There she was on the bench frowning And then while making the mundane choices They were all there, she is still here Huddled up inside me, jostling for space Faceless and nameless, they grew Disjointed and disconnected Rearing their heads Dominating, struggling and then cajoling and comforting In their world, madness is unreal and sanity delusive Pain is surreal, so is existence Happiness, mythical and sadness an unwelcome stranger They are hostages of their essence Enjoying the power struggle Busy, Floating around in chaos Sweating in mundane Waltzing on the void My, happy children of mundane For them, Negotiating confusion is survival Blocking the deafening noise of history, winning Buried in the hackneyed beauty of life With each for the other In this crowd Their aches are still trace less Pains don't leave any mark Tears are hollow and screams silent Suffocating in a teeming crowd of self Their search for one other, Just Any other, continues This is the beauty of condemnation That the teeming crowd within fondly calls Life.
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Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
Hello Stranger
Hello Stranger She was smiling at me while turning the pages of the book There she was on the bench frowning And then while making the mundane choices They were all there, she is still here Huddled up inside me, jostling for space Faceless and nameless, they grew Disjointed and disconnected Rearing their heads Dominating, struggling and then cajoling and comforting In their world, madness is unreal and sanity delusive Pain is surreal, so is existence Happiness, mythical and sadness an unwelcome stranger They are hostages of their essence Enjoying the power struggle Busy, Floating around in chaos Sweating in mundane Waltzing on the void My, happy children of mundane For them, Negotiating confusion is survival Blocking the deafening noise of history, winning Buried in the hackneyed beauty of life With each for the other In this crowd Their aches are still trace less Pains don't leave any mark Tears are hollow and screams silent Suffocating in a teeming crowd of self Their search for one other, Just Any other, continues This is the beauty of condemnation That the teeming crowd within fondly calls Life.
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random-aai3h
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
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