The sun, the moon, the stars
Can’t erase these soul scars
Feelings imprisoned behined bars
You have lived for long
Most won’t even make that far
Keep telling that to himself
But, who’s listening ,who is to hear?
Tiny little brat complaining about life
His hope’s broken, so is his heart
Tries to end his misery, the kitchen knife
Masks that fell before him
And the trusts that failed to win
Others left aside, failed even by his kin
No one on his side, understood his pain
Stood by everyone on their needs
What hell did he gain?
Sometimes at night, he would stare blank
Decides to start a new page,
But oh , the same diary
The same inkspot as it was the previous
He would give up anytime he wants
But his faith still holds,
To me he is a fool but faith after losing
Is that his Gold?
#0052am07062016faithinhimself

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