If I really want to tell a story by sculpting in time,
And looking for exampled answers all the way around;
What fits true is all the happenings of my life,
Splattered across the ailes with no strings to be bound.

My life, without mentioning you never does justice,
Though only one part just in those eight days a week,
And few moments you have been with me are nice,
Thinking of what went wrong is the question making me weak.

Yes, it was love at first sight, which I never believed in,
What I liked to love you are your mischievous deed,
And I became a prey for that very mischief is my sin,
When I thought and made my heart a shrine for a queen.

You have never been mine and I am not made yours,
The world and heaven doesn't take in even for hours.


© IZINGIZER
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