Friday, May 1, 2015


There are a few puddles along the way,
trees weaving in and out of the highway.
It's that docile distance between us,
yet restrictions cloud its coverage.

Pain and misery have been happily married,
they have plagued me more and more often,
i know now of thy saintly sacrifice--
sacrifice worthy of written by a scribe.

Love bloomed in for me late,
there were more roses amongst thorns,
a few lucid thoughts led to marriage,
purity and love lushing over my happiness.

Yet, there was one beautiful thorn,
which kept reminding her of an old song.
There were hazy good memories
and threw her into one wild tizzy.

Was there an end to this symphony?
Or is it another incomplete epiphany.
There can't be another incomplete melody,
His heart won't survive another minute long.

These few months had changed his heart and self,
there were habits gone, there were habits born.
These few lines won't change history
but atleast here flake can be whisky's.