Why I write
Ever thought what if everything is nothing but a lie
Even if this is reality or a picture wide
Reflected to our unknown eye
Oh what really happens after we die
Was it just a realistic dream dry
Or did we actually lived a life.
So many questions there are
With no answers so far
What is a birth scar?
Do we really perish and settle as a star
Is rebirth a true fact's jar
Or is it nothing but an imaginary idea's tar.
Secrets hidden from our flight
Or knowledge so limited despite
Do we really know anything about this world bright
Like who built its height
Or what is the fright we face in the night
Our mind so small we dont even know about the ghost the sprite
And they say everything is solved by science
Foolish humans with no imagination's light
That's why I write
Because I can see the most pale sight
And make the most out of it's small bite
As i love to think and fly along like a kite
I love to get lost and let my soul ignite
With boring thoughts nothing to excite
But still it makes me happy inside
And I travel to the paradise
Where they never recieved an invite
As it's only limited for that some
Who can make the most out of the smallest supply
And dont need a guide
As instinct is what replies.
- Aandaleeb Mukherjee
©aandaleeb
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