I like me,
Yes,I like me,
I really like me
I really, really like me.
I am no pretense,
I am what I can be.
I am a candy that children love,
I am a nutty chocolate that some die for,
While others are allergic to it.
I am a savoury snack you find in youngsters backpack,
Or you take for picnics.
I am a roast turkey or Biryani  for family feasts,
I am a mild soup for the aged.
I laugh and make others laugh,
I cry, but wipe others tears,
I am gentle but can be tough when need arises.
I try to be soft but rough to those who dare cross my path,
I am a friend indeed.
Yes, I like me,
As I am, as I can be.

I'm walking in the night,
In the night so fearsome.
Burned by another fight,
Another fight to come.

I'm walking in this fight,
In this fight upon love.
With the end in sight,
From above.
Keeping it up now,
Blowing it up, tearing it down.

Speak right, with your flawing mind,
We don't have no time,
Losing what we find.
You know we must try,
Try to see the sky,
We're leaving it to die,
Listen to it cry.

We stand just over the line,
We're out of our mind and astray.
We were never made to shine,
Just like the Sun, it may.

We are meant to fade away,
In the night, so lonely.
But its stars will talk one day,
In our fight, so strongly.
Holding it up now,
Building it up, shoving it down.

Speak now, with your dampened eye,
Speak without a lie,
Let the words flow by.
You know we must win,
When the world comes in,
The final peace will begin.

They say you only live once
so cliché as it may sound
But do make the most out of it
as you live your life
Do it according to your own parameters
No need to compare it with others.

For as long as you decide for your sake
Never hesitate to figure things out on your own
When you set your pace of living your dreams
You will never have to worry.

Happiness and success are two interlinking entities
Having both is a blessing
But flourishing in every circumstances you encounter is way more than pleasing.

And as you only live once,
Maybe you can always try to do something to forget than to regret later on.

maybe it's there, in the crevice of his hard heart, that he heard the soft echo of light.

maybe, if the wound really is where the light enters you, it's in the heavy handed claps or in that gruff way men tell their sons, when it seems like the right thing to do, that they love them,

and then it's gone,

vanished into the cold nothingness, behind

rough hands and hearty laughter and the slow descending numbness of duty and honor and being a man.

it's faded, worn over, rusted old coppers,
until there comes along a boy who'll tuck the rough love away, who won't stand startled but rather perplexed,

who'll keep it boxed safe like pressed flowers between thin brown paper.

and then maybe, maybe that sweet boy will spread a few more, until his love is no longer a coarse and dying brittle sea air but nourishing, sustaining,

and maybe then he can start over.