Silent Serenade
Sometimes..
Life can be a silent serenade,
a sequence of
sentimental eyes
and
deep sighs..
Contemplating… Why?
I guess..
It is just another sad poem,
but with a different pen -
bleeding
sorrow,
afraid of
tomorrow.
The atmosphere is a contrast,
between black and blues.
Trying to let go of
reminiscent hues,
an artificial smile,
hiding a regretful persona.
In solitude
when you sit
and listen,
you can hear -
a crumbling heart,
and uncontrollable tears.
Lost in depths of despair,
surrounded by the smell of bitter fears
and
I don’t care,
about the songs mad birds sing
only my silent
serenade.
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