Just like a butterfly is twisted within the cocoon,
And the roots muddled close to moist soil,
And the sun basks in the moonlight,
And my untamed morning hair,
You are tangled, within me.
And when the scribbles on the last pages of your book,
meant a lot more than your story.
And when it’s not about the ending — happy, or sad.
It’s about the story.
So set yourself on fire.
For one day, you will stumble upon someone,
who will ignite a spark within you that will never ever die.
And when such people happen, you’ll know they’re magic!
And when you’ll never have enough, you’ll ever have an illusion.
For whom you’ll never stop looking among st the crowd.
For they are the best chapters of your life.
(v.) to stir, to touch, to move to tears
And when deep inside they’d care the most,
They would pretend they don’t care.
And when you’ll come across the sad part of the story,
you will ever come to find–– that they are not always the ones
whom we spend our lives with.
It would be too late.
After all at the end, we all are just stories.
Each and every soul you meet has to play a part in the story.
While one may take a chapter, others a line or two.
The special ones occupy the exclamations, apostrophes,
in the happiest sentences of your life.
And then the fire they ignite, may not be the first or the last.
But the only one that lasts forever.
And the only one worth fighting for.
| So I wonder not how well it starts, but how bad it’s gonna end. |
That’s the BOOK OF YOUR LIFE.
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