I** know that for sure.
Shall those moments not repeat,
Tilling the land of youth for maturity,
Irrigating the seeds with my love,
Lowered my voice in tensed times,
Lost in your dreams my mornings be.
Lost in these dreams,
Of your plain youth,
Violent violet hues pull,
Encumbering memories.
Yeoman of youth I had been,
Ousting the blues away from
Underneath the carpet of lies.
Bringing up the zombies of stale issues,
Until all of my sanity just vanished,
Trounced & trampled upon my heart.
In this digital ink my heart bled.
Wuthering away my own youth,
In return of momentary pleasures,
Loving yourself via me you were,
Luck has never been kind to me.
Awake I am in your memories,
Loving all the dreams I get,
Wherein I only see you,
Away from the world,
You actually live in,
So prone to negativity.
Righting your wrong I was,
Enchanted by your youth,
Mine was nothing ever,
All was just yours,
In the night too,
Not just in the day.
Lightheaded I always am,
Onto the ground I might fall,
Not poised to die in the deluge,
Ever I will be made to suffer,
Losing next battle of life,
Years are limited for me.
Don't worry, you will get married too.
Like every other girl that I used to love.
Be thankful for my bad luck.
I am sick of this burning headache.
Of this tinnitus & vertigo as well.
Pray that I get some kind of cancer.
I will be at peace with myself after death.
HP Poem #1254
©Atul Kaushal
