I wrote my phrases ,
I was catastrophic to tame my dove ,
Why did you come up ?
Why did you pay me love ?
I was clauded in a spehere ,
I was drenched into feeling of my Ruth ,
How did you spray me magic by your touch ?
But then , now , make me bruise ?
I held my grudges against the wall ,
For what I built ,
What I had them crawled ,
I dinged my talons ,
And now I sing a song,
How did you fed this magic me along ?
It was long then back a drop ,
I am locked in a stay of your much ,
What’d I do ,
Why don’t I sleep a little without thinking a much ?
Why doesn’t it not interested ,
The way it did then as hutch.
I am terrified
and the fear got me ambush ,
I remember the days so tiny
When we laundered a miny little ash – crunch.
Have days so passed ,
Have they room my sire ,
Through these days I live I only desire,
If you were my flame ,
And I were the fire ,
We burnt the wrath for what we required.
Why do I cry now ,
Or maybe look for signs surround my head ,
Why do I sigh now ,
But for a broken and as chanted regret ?
Do you leaf me now ,
in the perils of smoke and rests ?
Do you stuffle now
The crowns of our memories ,
sweet, undistressed ?
Why did you press me all ?
Left your magic right behind ,
Why did you have me all ,
And left me no just rather signs ?
Why do I cry the sheets ,
They trail me down a memory remiscile ,
You left your magic ,
But you left me none to ride ?
Why should I scathe me ,
For every moment passing by ?
Why do I grab me
For running moments medicide ,
Didn’t you have me promised,
You wouldn’t left me, else, otherwise.
Why do I sound no more ,
If you don’t sleep against me ,
Or unless the otherside.
Must I recount ,
Or do I rebound to whatever had been my go ,
I search in for people now ,
Who the enemies ,
Who the dear little show…
Maybe we talked wondrousities,
But none the rather mose ,
How you’ve left me ,
Wasn’t it my rico ?
There you dashed your bag our the front door ,
You asked me you in the day would bestow ,
I crasped a warm on you cheeky little ,
And waved you a go ,
I swear to the moments ,
I am a criminal to your escrow.
Now I write you an eulogy ,
My perfect a kind abide to have you put through ,
But you sit in my dreams ,
And I couldn’t see me day move.
– Aryan Jain.