Not the girl you met yesterday, Not the woman you expect to meet tomorrow, If you happen to peep through the shroud of gloom, You'll find me at war with sorrow.
Bruised beyond repair, Hues of black and blue, Shrouded by despair, Moistened by dew; Seeks no solace, No rescue. Rubbles of sweet dreams, Angst and rue, Muffled,silent screams, No cry or hue, Burning in the ashes, To rise anew.
Doing the right thing may not attract the majority but definitely speaks volumes of your maturity! Do not wait for validation. For those, who walk with the crowd, are often unsure of themselves.
An attempt to capture time as a constant, When all it does is vary, A plethora of shades and hues, Right from the first day at school, To horrifying teenage blues, Not just memory rolled out on paper Or the pixels on electronic screens, It is the feeblest figment Of a train of sentiment, A soul-stirring time traveller, Of flashbacks and delight Contained together, Photographs are such a wonder!