Going on is hard,
But resting isn’t guilt free.
Some say life is an art,
The strokes you paint aren’t so easy.
What seems to be the problem, we don’t understand.
But scared of the reality, we hide in our shell.
We cry in our sleep, thinking life is bad.
We want everything to stop, but wish we could propel.
And yet we live,
As if dying is the hardest part.
While people suffer through this noise,
We listen to silence like an alarm.
We paint our strokes in rue,
And darken the sad parts.
Blue or black seem to be the only hues,
To color our art.
We lose our happiness and its meaning,
To find a place safe from our nefarious reality.
We are tired of people lying and cheating,
And run away to find a moment of clarity.
We defame our art with the wrong feelings.
And attenuate the ones that we need.
We run away from what we believe in.
And betray ourselves to our gloomy greed.
Life is an art.
It is open to every perception.
Not only the dark,
But also the happy perfections.
We need to open up,
And believe in happiness.
We need to not let the rush,
Overwhelm our distress.
P.S. Sorry for the erratic posts ! I guess I have been a bit occupied with a lot of work for sometime. It might take me 2-3 more weeks to get back on my schedule, but I’ll try to keep posting whenever I can. 🙂