Paradox
Its almost vexing,
Trying to curse oneself and make it official.
Never had been a day,
When a bird didnt lose a feather,
The dust in the air, took a vacation
The odd newspaper boy woke up late,
An old lady thought about grandchildren,
Even though she didnt have any...
The harp of the human heart
Is made up of infinite strings,
That is played by the tentacles
Originating from
The robust, goblin like,
Gooey thing called brain.
Sometimes its hard to perceive:
Beauty Barbados-ing, such appalling art
Of the inside .
Is that all?
Skin
Flesh
Bones.
Is that all?
Life wears sunglasses
And 'The Devil Wears Prada'..!
From sunshine,
Till the poisoned neon:
Death of a stranger,
And the death of a loved one,
Is there a difference?
Or there is none,
After one's own.
Copyright © Iman Roy | Year Posted 2011
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