The Time
You are so quiet,
Your appetite doesn't clash with your sight,
Your wisdom doesn't match your boredom,
It is no longer your freedom.
Your absolutism is the snowball,
Your cross is searching for the remedy for your downfall,
The curse will be broken sooner,
The new life will be greener.
This life is nothing but built on your fragile memories,
Frailty peeps into the stiff tweets.
To live is to bear a double-edged sword,
To die is to fulfil the prophecy of the unknown Lord.
You are never nothing,
To predict your intent is always thought-provoking.
Words cannot always tell the tale,
Because words are flaccid.
For your mistakes to be undone,
For your profanity to be cleaned,
In between the vivid lines,
I will wait for your redemption,
And will look for you in your false solitude.
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