Such symbolic sentences...I fancy them.
Situations so strange...as well as how I end them.
Simple seeking of silence...useless in its longing.
Subjugating secrets...cruel in its withdrawal.

Shall we share the shyness? There is plenty for you...
Should we show our shallow shells? We will certainly protect you.
Shall we scare the separated sons of servants? They never told you.
Should we sell selfish souls? I did not mean to punish you.

Which is just?
Maybe all of them, if you must.

Which is right?
A few of them, if it helps you sleep at night.

Where is she?
Right in your heart, I promise truthfully.



        -- Yes, I know. Eventually, there will be writing on the wall.


                                                         ­           

              
                                                  
             ­                                       (It is only a matter of time.)

I thought of the idea I couldn't weep
I thought of the idea i couldn't sleep
Late night movies watching creep
Never been a champ at my crib
Loved her and treated her like my rib
Into the throne like a queen
Old songs i sang to my sleep
Tormented enough not for my dream
Thousand opportunities i saw them slip
Into the night the rain falls still
Thunders strikes hard
Turn up my eyes to the dark gay sky and I strain still
Did my exams at the main
Hard day for love I felt the lain
Never greed
But felt the slain
Never promised to love again
Last time caused my manners had my feeds
This ain't the old you knew
But a replica  of whats new..

I was blinded, stunned,
by a thousand bright suns.

A star so young and charming
raised my spirit to never known highs.

But the sparkle only lasted moments
for my courage descended into night.

There she is, standing alone,
waiting, like every day,
with me as her silent shadow.

Silver rain falls in great drops
and a cold breeze gives her shivers
causing me equal agony.

Her raven hair makes the pale skin
shine white, clean like a statue.
A sight which stops everything around.

She looks my way, giving a sign
and her scarlet lips open like flowers
seducing me, making me blush.

But fool, now she’s gone
and I stand alone, waiting,
like every day, for her return.

An introvert sees the world as it is,
deciding still, not to engage.

She sits in her room
Beside her lonely loom
And dreams of times of grace
And suitors come to her place.
But no one has come here,
So she sings the songs
Of being alone too long.

None will come so near
That she needs to flirt.
Instead she gathers her hurt
And weaves it into tapestries
Of such stunning majesty
That only she will applaud,
Because there is no god
That will transform her to be
A lady of famous beauty.

She never has known why
She was born forbiddingly shy.
She fears to speak and convince,
Always she is prone to wince
Instead of smiling and inviting.
Her lovely pale face whitening
With dread she cannot speak
And that makes her feel weak.

The sun rises and it sets
She has nothing to regret
Or to remember gladly
But sadly she has grown
Comfortable being alone
Since  the pain is remembered
And she never delivered
From the roaring noise
Of life without love’s joys.