• siddharthajana 10w

    The stream

    The stream tides up
    As the water passes by dancing legs
    Coming from tipsy heights
    Hidden in the memories
    It feeling suffocated
    Like a strained relationship
    Fringes of water seeping into dungeons
    Drowning oneself in the pools of sorrow
    Young love stabbed by the shallow waters
    My freezing hand touching cold droplets
    Learning to let go
    Of mirrors and bygones
    The sun peeking through thy soul
    Weaving a story full of red
    Roses and blood in high tides
    In the distance one hears thy song
    The droplets like broken glass
    In tiny metaphors
    Symbolising hearts and fairytales
    Petrified by violent gleames of dust
    The rotten truth rising up
    Gaining strength at the bottom
    The void becoming the biggest mystery
    Of our lives
    Of heartache bends and slippery truth
    Becoming a rebel in disobedience
    A storm chanting bells of white
    A cold season ending in blue
    Butterflies dazzling in the light
    Denying the truth from heaven.