Spinning around my head,
are the crescents of spite,
its the seasons of odium,
the visions of fright,
The procession of autumn,
It perforates my heart,
The leaves rustle
once again with low spirits,
Theres a pang of peeve,
In the long lost words,
but i wont utter
With the shattered leaves,
Stepping into a bitter world now,
In return i get a cold shoulder,
Theres a sliver of piercing frigidity,
Alone i sob and shiver...
They stare and then move away,
n drown in the steely rivers,
I give them a helping hand,
They say its not my errand,
Bemused, i run away,
I step into wut they call spring,
They say its the season of love,
Observant...im left wid broken wings,
The thorns entangle my rapture
As if, betraying me,
But i want them to let go,
cuz theyve ensnared my dreams,
Im sick of this two faced hypocrisy
Cuz they are not what they utter
So i walk into the desert sand,
In search of a drop of water,
I find my destination,
Wetten my dried up lips,
But there is still a longing thirst,
sigh...it can never be fulfilled
Theres a continuous pelting,
Of the showers of pain,
but im leaving it incomplete,
cuz its a regularly played game...
