Alone, in front of the expanse of black,
Light from the side but faith no more,
A moment to ponder before I crack,
And I reach for the pain without a sore.
It eludes me, that devious and sly thought,
Leaving the notion of immense disease,
A smile - receiving the item that I sought,
But it's a lie - I'm brought to my knees.
One, the sender, blinks and turns away,
Finding solace in personal deceptions,
Letting this helpless being cry and stray,
Upon the brink of futile conceptions.
Once - just maybe - there had been the rose,
Impish grins shining to respond in aluminum,
But the heart - it feels what the mind knows,
Sensing pain in edifices and a small crumb.
Falling, now, with no signs of stopping known,
Occasional hints with the facade of light to see,
Snapping and breaking every single bone,
Yet one would see an untouched body.
Light - the purifying source of all knowledge and lies,
Those Mundane objects re-attaching mortal debts,
Here - no, perhaps there, light returns and deeply sighs,
Streaming the curling smoke of darkened cigarettes.
پھر یوں ہوا کے درد مجھے راس آ گیا