Let the paper drown in blood and not just my thoughts,
I pen down the glory of love and the wonder my life brought.

In my mind, a storm is brewing so cold,
Sanity has left the sanctity of my emotional hold.

Through the broken glass, I glance upon the town,
Misery and suffering run the people wearing brown.

There lies a mystery in my chosen ways of life,
Why be surprised as I bleed? After all, I chose the sharpest knife.

My courage is rooted in temperance of love and anger,
Hold me on, oh darling of mine, for the soil is eager to make me a stranger.
© aadil wani