Monday, March 05, 2007 @Monday, March 05, 2007
Frets
Come they keep coming
Miss out
or not bothered
A little tingle a little action
would have gone a thousand miles
Would u have the thought of doing
would u have even thought
Pple mind too much of things that wouldn reli matter (at d end of everything)
But they didn put in much thought much significance to the true blue things
We do not have all the time to realise
We do not have all the time to learn
We will all pass one day
be it body
Here perhaps heart or soul
N now my sight sees not a soul anymore
So i keep it all inside
I no longer can tell
Even u are not here no more
It gets harder each day
I clap with a limped hand
I sing with a broken chord
I miss the summer days
n many of things from there i miss
The softness of the touch
The kind soul who melted
I told of my misses
I told of my heart's say
It doesnt get thr0ugh
It doesnt seep in
It even seemed it was taken as a child's play.
A joke?
Another created problem?
I can tell u with utmost seriousnessly,
it isn't.
Its just a different shoe.
Never thought of as me
I cannot let it be heard
I wished more for it to be felt
Such world-ly-ness
emotions only get u down
Why the question we often ask
If we could do otherwise if could not bother too
we wouldn have to ask why
