When your stories are against you You feel like the sideline character Ppl tell you, your Soo farr behind A look at yourself, you would shatter the mirror You hated what you were Even after doing your bestt You felt like a mess You had forgotten where you came from You had forgotten your dreams and ambition Once again when you saw the colors of the world You realized that you weren't the problem Ppl wanted to distroy a talent And you made their challenge simpler.
A poem I wrote after realizing that many people sacrifice themselves to please others, we should always remember that we are the only permanent person in our lives Soo our first priority is to love yourself.
The rose of love withered on the vine In lifeless disposition she'd remain Her syrupy nectar slowly did decline A bewailing sorrow in ending twain No recapture of a past happiness The petals perished browning to dark Disappearing elation's gleefulness A flower's heart minus her loving spark Without the touch of fondness on the bloom Her brilliant brightness faded well away Those wondrous days were replaced by gloom Sombre melancholy of saddest pall's shay As dusk's hour turns to the dying closeness Reflect on the rose's mood of dimness
She stood by the door, with tear-stricken eyes; A small-little push, and they'd be inside. She thought of her mother, who left her all alone; She wished for a father, who would care her like his own. Her thoughts were broken, by the furious bangs on the door; She begged the Lord of mercy, even if she wasn't the one wrong. Her frail body was thrown aside, as they rushed into the room; She closed her dead eyes, awaiting her doom. Throughout the push and pull, she did not utter a word; For she knew her mistake, of being born as a Girl.
It started as a camouflaged war, Though the end appeared to fall apart, But it had already begun, You being alone & there's no way to run. Neither a day nor a night, Would settle this life-less undying fight. And every time you fight yourself, An undying strength comes by, But a part of you is unknowingly expelled.
Yes life can be easy, but actually its not when you talk about the reality. Every word here counts its meaning. We write hard.