It's a song
only a few wrote,
They rotted lonely and abandoned,
Some had the lock to fame
and thrived,
Who are you but,
only a spent desire to branch out.
Seasons changed and
told you to sync in,
Yet you clung to that tune.
The carnivals passed before you
and you learnt no music,
Truths have never
made a life,
They have only seared hearts
and your being.
Looking for a lonely tree,
You will lose the jungle,
When the wind will usher the leaves
to a song, pick up the new tune
and erase the old,
no read read marks
you leave, to remind you of
the dead who torched your
soul and slipped away ,
unscarred.
This next season, gather your things
and wait,
till the caravan comes along.
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