Night is the poet,
Of eloquent silences,
In darkness and light!

A bloom on the hedge,
Wants me to stop, but I left;
‘Love, it’s getting dark’

Let us find ourselves, lay ourselves bare, run our hands across our naked hearts and not flinch when we say,
here I am home.

Society has laid it’s ***** hands upon us
Let us not live with it’s fingers
Lodged down our throats..

I'm born into this world
like a clean board of canvass,
I didn't know who will I love
I didn't know who am I going to be.
As I grow up,
my misery, my pain, and my scars
are turning into colors,
colors that i am now using
to paint the canvas of my own.