I am the poet of my own lyrics and rhymes
Like the ones that choose not to be divine
I may not be the Rumi of this world but we all lead different lives
with diffrent inner strifes
I may struggle to put the words on paper but they dance around in my mind
Like a bad choreography they play with my head
Happy thoughts jumbled with the sadness that looms like the cold winter monsoon
Is it over yet I ask those words they have no answer yet
But they always take me back to the place where we first met
The words they talk to me like I am their best friend and their enemy
One day I can put them right
©4050
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