We begin with life like a blank canvas..
Only to go on painting things as they come.
We rejoice, we learn, we unlearn, and fall.
Only to rise again and never come undone.
We try finding strength in everything that's old
Our parents, our loves ones, with stories never told
We lean on to take, the support of those we love
In the sphere of life, we believe that would be enough.
But then that belief slowly starts to dwindle.
And the strength that once made you strong, now only makes you feeble.
With everyone going away..
And you being left to life's uncanny melancholia,
A smoke of disdain clouds you..
And you are left to deal alone with the hysteria.
And when the nothingness envelops you in its embrace.
You find your own definition of peace, your own land of solace.
Although it is only a figment of your imagination.
The person and that essence, become your home and salvation.
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