Walking through the alley , he did,Grabbing tightly the locket of his,
Ponder over the deeds he hid,
His first move, his last kiss.
Not all were true, nor all did he mean,
But one that mattered was pure as his soul,
For the beauty magnified the word ‘serene’,
Still, so far, for his mediocre role.
This story i tell, i tell not to console,
But to remind the world that there is,
One for each, and only one whole ,
Not all we get, not all we miss.
He had his life, not him , it was,
Little did he know the future ahead,
He would wake up as happy as his loving lass,
And happier in dreams would go to bed.
The nights were longer, the days were short,
He wished it was the other way round.
As days could make him meet his thought,
And nights , a sleepless hound.
Like the day, the days lived short,
The reason not quite known to all,
Turning the dreams into nightmares , he then,
Would like an apple would curb and fall.
Ended his time, and ended his days,
To keep his perfection of the purest form,
With him. And now his mind frays,
Whispering throughout the walls of his dorm.
What happened was bad, worse was to come,
What use were his words now ?
But good things were written, and better to become,
The only question was “How ?”
Time doesn’t heal, the wound only dries,
But stays painful beneath.
For only the most awful of cries,
Could make him stay and breathe.
Breathe, he did, and stronger he became,
His lesson was reaching its end.
He shredded the burden, he then thought was lame,
And emerged a loving friend.