At Sixes and Seven
I was snoring and wondering.
Does the blood in my veins run in the same manner as the water stream we never visited.
Isn't it painful to see our souls drifting apart like the tributaries, leading us to the ocean.
The deep blue water that they named "Ocean"
which carries beautiful masterpiece's in her womb makes me fear her.
It's my fear,I'm scared of the most.
Thalassophobia you know.
I'm that child of four, who is completely unknown about the concept of lighter but ends up lighting up the whole house on fire.
My red lips with my timid,tiny body is always out of style.
I guess I'm bad at it, or I really don't know which colour matches my soul.
Ash grey or just blue.
But black looks good on me.
The deep cut on my right leg is as deep as the melancholy that you got from me.
My heart skipped a beat whenever you called me "Beautiful".
I appreciate your beauty and grace but the reflection of me in the mirror
makes me wonder,is that the things you just want or need.
Bones seems fleshless and bones collide with bones makes me feel worse.
Body and soul of mine was never mine.
But the pain was always mine.
I thank him.
I thank him daily, at least there's something he gave me and never took it back from me.
I thank God". I do thank him.
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