If I am being double crossed or being told the truth, I know not to tell
But let me learn, even if tears swell.

If I should trust a human being or not, I know not to tell
But let that decision be mine, even if tears swell.

If the next step I take will be towards the mountain or the pit, I know not to tell
But let me fall, even if tears swell.

If the sea will be full of happiness for me, I know not to tell
But let my ship sink once, even if tears swell.

If the sun will brighten my life or scorch me down, I know not to tell
But let me burn, even if tears swell.

If I should have chosen the right path instead of the left, I know not to tell
But let the stars lead me, even if tears swell.

If my planned destination is not my destiny, I know not to tell
But let me find my way out, even if tears swell.

If I am young and foolish, I know not to tell
But let me grow old and wise, even if tears swell.

Give me a little more freedom, chances to make my own mistake
A little more freedom, to learn it my own way, is all I seek.

The sun was going down
The sky was a blue except for a patch- a mutiny of red of orange,
Just above the setting sun.

Rushing to the terrace,
I settled in my spot,
The white swing, my book, and music on my phone.
Aah! Utopia it was.

The backdrop was perfect.
The sky like the dim reading lights
Not too bright, yet enough.
The sun could be just seen in between the mountains.

Before the romance with the words,
I danced around, feeling happiness coursing through my veins.
Then I lost myself within the pages, within the story of Mariam and Laila,
Unconcerned about everything around me.

Oh but this poem is not about a thousand splendid suns
It is about the moment which followed.
A darkness descended, so sudden, it took my breath away.
It was like someone had flicked the switch off.

I looked around, gaping at what had just happened
The sky wasn't black yet, it was blue,
Yet even dimmer.
I sat their awestruck for a few minutes.

And now I don't know why I am writing this.
But their was a sudden flutter of these lines in my mind,
A sudden urge to record these lines, a itch in my fingers to write this.
And now it just seems like a tree which will never bear fruit.