August: The month of hope

And so, how it feels to wait ? Is it parallel to being in July Or Is it parallel to being the last raindrop Lingering all the while for it's turn to fall, patter and burn Or is it alike an eye holding mess with concern Might be like the bird being in the middle of nowhere With no concern to discern Moments became memories, memories never flew When, hopelessly hopeful month is in the queue Unabashed it is to say that August pours in the void And helps in banishing what's destroyed But isn't the feeling upcoming parallel to being devoid? Or might be alike the realization of becoming paranoid In spite of those incanted words of the proficient necromancer summoning the depth within you Because of the chronicles you went through And so, to know the truth is to know the lie Cause it's more difficult to live than to die To gaze through galaxy and reach the limpid is to know the spy Cause what appears to be isn't the real color of the sky Possession of wings doesn't mean you can fly The wet too can be dry Just like inhumane memory to which you can't say goodbye Now, Alzheimer's is the solution Cause Remembrance became malady look at the dear tragedy, result of which is A Poor atrocious rhapsody!