The wind ruffles,
The city sleeps.
This judgement isn't yours,
But is made to keep.
What does one wish?
Upon the eternal moon.
To wash away its sorrows,
With the rain of monsoon.

If you love, I will adore more than this
If you ignore, I will ignore more than this

She says, you have to suffer more
is there anymore, more than this?

These are eyes which can cry
Heart is sore more than this

The tree under which we used to sit
was green before, more than this

She has a doubt that I don't love
I can't be sure more than this

She asked while salting my wounds
"Are you happy or more than this?"

I am scared, your mom may come
Please close the door more than this

Time is bad which plays games
You always score, more than this

You are amazing as you are now
and on dancefloor,more than this

The mind of that girl is a pain sanctuary
whose aching decreases due to a world that's imaginary.

From home she goes out to get away,
and all those nights in stranges she relies.

The soft morning breeze
tenderly dries the tears in her cheeks,
and childishly it peeks
through her bloodshot eyes looking for a trace of peace.

Nobody could really tell
if she, bones and flesh, is still alive
or if she's just a wanderer ghost.
Probably the only one of her kind.

The dark circles under her eyes
are a proof of the restless crying nights.

The tangled auburn messed up hair
tells she didn't sleep at home, but no one cares.

Picking up flowers on the way back home,
humming songs that once made her feel whole.
She rests for a few hours and once awake she grabs a pen,
she writes down a poem before she gets drunk again.

Somehow she finds calm
in the simple things of life,
and she tries not to think
about the coldness in her eyes.

Barely getting through, day by day,
trying not to be absorbed by all the grey.

Amassing countless heartbeats
to the final point where life she quits.