Why do I like to Blame this I?
Everything I touch, tomorrow dies, But then nothing stays always by. Still why do I like to blame this I? Everyone I love, away they shy, But then nothing good starts, full sunshine. Still why my fingers point me all time? I have thousand reasons to weep, But only few that makes my joy creep. Still why don’t I hold them and deep breathe? I go towards the beauty and seek: Unknowingly, the negative leak. Then why don’t I stitch the torn sheath? I always attract whom I detest And repel convincingly, very bests. Does beauty, in difficulty rest? -SURAJ (29/11/2013)
