I miss the nights when the street light shadows
hugged my mind from behind, I miss the long talks
I used to have with myself on daily walks
But what good does it do? To do others
good and forget about you?
What condolences does it bring
to stich a heart so tough,
torn by thorns so rough?
With toungues that water peace
and hearts that practice villainy
Remedies may heal a wound & lies
can hurt enough to get a calm mind fumed,
but nothing renders your grief inevitable
as long as you desire fragile hope and solid
disappointments from your surroundings
Perhaps, that is why
we tend to give the love we can't get,
say the words we don't hear,
do the things we don't mean,
and pray to God that despite all,
we'll end up standing tall,
even if we're about to fall
But until the roads are meant to meet in time
they're bound to end some times,
till then,
so long to that frail heart of mine....
