Cross that bridge Cross that bridge, with heavy steps The feet may hurt but you must be best The angry currents below threaten to rise The moment has come for skies to cry The skies will cry but you must stride Bury the pain, the anguish within They may burst, the walls of the abyss may thin Keep it locked and break the shackles The angst and the grief grapple in the battle The despair
I Like Blue.. Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fall and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay… -F Scott Fitzgerald Of one of the saddest places in the world, must be Navya’s 17 years old heart. She looked into it every day, trying to go over each corner and crevice. It must be somewhere. She looked around forever. The tiny seconds merging into minutes turning into hours. She saw
When the blues hit, And the smiles are almost true. The tiniest crack appears, revealing the storm within. But I still sail through… The dawn is drawing close, The dusk threatens to be gnawing… The night holds the demon Can we skip this one time… Skip it this time, utters a blur So I lock those lids soaking in the sun. With eyes wide shut, and the seeping daylight, My demons that hunt shall run
Like the hues of the morning glow, Like the lucent sunshine thru the door Like the evening breeze that flows He blossomed in her heart like a cupid rose. Like a crazy hailstorm the day before Like the whirlwind that left her wounds so sore Like the waves of the oceans kissing the shores He left her breathless wanting a bit more Like the way, nature spins its web Like the way a magician casts
When the blues hit, And the smiles are almost true. The tiniest crack appears, revealing the storm within. But I still sail through… The dawn is drawing close, The dusk threatens to be gnawing… The night holds the demon Can we skip this one time… Skip it this time, utters a blur So I lock those lids soaking the warmth of the sun. With eyes wide shut, and the seeping daylight, My demons that hunt,
Body shaming is a term coined in recent times for an old age social skill or practice of insulting individuals who don’t match up to our standards of beauty and perfections. But of course, we all know that. Yet, all of us at some level have practised it at some point. From the time, we are infants, we are evaluated for our skin colour, our crop of hair, colours of our eyes to adherence to
According to an old Greek saying, the perfection comes in 3’s. So, there are three kinds of people you meet in life… THE STEADY ROOSTERS These are those who are observers, who let life pass through them like one whiles away time, like someone who is a mere receiver and let things happen around them and they cope, they love the regimental drill and seek predictable pattern. They often bask in the peace and the
