I guess life is nothing but the flashbacks of moments we liked,
Ignorance of which we didn't,
Is it even worth to live by the inches?
There's always this black slate you stare at,
There's always this masterpiece you try to paint,
As always you mess it up in the midway,
And this the moment you realize,
Something in you is broken, and it can never be fixed.
You really try to run,
But it catches up everytime,
All that left for you is to sigh.