Amidst the cool blues,
soft like a cotton-
dabbing my wounds;
Oh my, I want you.
The voices are so loud,
that you're the soaring high cloud,
shining in your throne;
while I'm just a stone-
I'll fall down soon.
I reach up to you-
stretching my arms as high as I could.
People don't care,
but they will soon after I grab you;
A white gem so rare.
I ran up to the terrace,
and as near as I would,
you appeared closer;
a mirage stood
smiling at me, telling me I can,
and I ran,
to the end, till the bent.
But you never came closer;
Oh, a hand will you lend?
I wished upon a star,
and saw it falling from you.
I ran to catch-
but instead I caught a bruise,
Is this the overrated fruit?
The voices are so loud,
that you're the soaring high cloud,
shining in your throne;
and I'm just a stone,
but never I thought, I'd fall this soon.
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A U T H O R' S N O T E
17.7.18
Rejection hurts. No matter how well you think you cope up, it always hurts.