There are no more princess' left in this world
to turn frogs into men
in stories they sleep... never to be waken up
into this world where even butterflies have swords
and flowers oozes with nectar so bitter
bees stopped flying to gardens
thunderstorms lost its charm
where the streets are filled with screams
the roads are empty with crimson gold light
here and there some strangers walk past..
people have gone back to their cocoons
in search of a more "secured" life.."secured" choices!!!
you are missing allot in this life or other
if you are not walking past the winds
if you are not agonised by rains on your shoulder
you are missing this life or other...
The life of a frog in a dirty lane
filled with darkness so dense
I walked past many in my nocturnal paths
sometimes some has reminded me
I am also like that frogs
dense in dark memoirs..filled with blood
of the insomniac dreams
of the starving days..
a path so dark,but I will walk past
through the magical faith that I carry
as a handful of water drops in this desert
we should walk past all memoirs..to be alive..
we should walk past all the pages
of life's nights so dark..
