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)

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