Music to the Poetry

  I thought, I was a Nostalgic Story I Was a Nostalgic Story If Someone Told Me And Then Out of nowhere Someone Made Me If I listen I would get the golden necklace If I didn't Flower, s peaking of the Garland I am the future If I wished it on a dream Whispering real realities Silencing me a mistake Made somewhere Makes A created creature A past creation Narrated the lines Filled the emptiness Made the losses absolute Victories, the faint memories Erased by wars Happiness, ecstasy Written some tragedies In a melancholy Escaped some deaths. Lived Some. Died Some. Until I found the masterpiece That I was waiting for Someone like you, Like you Oh, snap! Hello there

 Graphite in your memory book fades; the writing pokes and strikes you down  With memories that you left as blades The actual time is a good conductor  Graphite approves and bleeds  Without the remorse of painful tragedies and shortened sleeps The soul, still hungry to feel something real and natural Craving for abyss when it is already engraved into your soul And yet, you seek chicken soup for your eyes Painted by truthful lies or lies full of truth  Life has just blinked at your soul and you reached Nirvana(moksha) Life is yet to be and you have lived  All of it in those few strokes of Graphite