Tortured yet hopeful,
Like the parched land,
Moving but nowhere,
Floating like particles of sand.
A zealot's belief,
Each other's faith as well as
fault,
Groping at what could be,
yet wishing for the moment to
halt.
Like two compatible
imperfections,
Creating a separate perfect
world,
Forgetting that we are
aberrations but,
Fretting when their machinations
unfurl.
And hoping to find some hope,
We scavenge across their
Universe,
Trying to find a place to hide,
while our happiness they vilely
curse.
They make themselves to break us,
The
Society,rules,expectations,destiny,
And yet here we are today,
the only place we were meant to
be.
We find solace in each other,
for we are simply two lost souls,
wanting to be ourselves
separately,
yet together seeking to be whole.
No comments:
Post a Comment