Baldeep

writer, 17. Not the one you would expect here!

[baldeepthekoala]

A dull soul, I seek bright, bright as her smile, bright as her eyes, those eyes as deep, as blue as the ocean, i know the risk, but i long a dive, her voice, so warm, brings joy to my soul, her beauty, so precious, like that of a jewel. A dead man, i seek life, but before the end comes, i seek a thing more, it’s her, her presence in that life.

[baldeepthekoala]

With each time the sun sets, A little I die, but seeing The Moon light up, I feel, I must go on, there might Not be a cause, there Might not be a reason. But walk, I must, on every Path known to man, But see, I must, every building Created by man, why, I don’t know, nor will I ever. For chance, I have only one, Use it, I must. Breaths, laughs, cries, every Man does, memories, make, Only a few, therefore, I shall, Some. For chance, I have only one.

[baldeepthekoala]

Strange how I remember walking on the sand Was a magical time, when I held your hand A hand, softer than clouds, I held I guess, it was love what I felt We promised to grow, we promised to stay?Where did all that go one day? Good times, bad times, we had them all Badder were the questions that came with nightfall Where did I mess up? What was my fault? Why was I the one who ended up in a halt? I told you that people, you'll find new For qualities, I had, only a few Filled with sorrows, worries, and fear I only needed someone for once to just care Strange it is how I cry myself fine Goodbye, old friend, who I wish stayed mine.

[baldeepthekoala]

She a beauty, holds the sky in her eyes. Her smile, the most precious, has no price. Yet, within her brilliance, resides a hidden sorrow. Her joy fades; she sees no tomorrow. Bombs, gunshots, and chants she hears. “Is Mama, Papa alright?” She fears. Her laughter, once a sunrise, gentle and bright. Turns into tears as she sees her home alight. Guns fall silent, peace returns. Her parents, her home, her nation, she yearns.

[baldeepthekoala]

Oh, I ask, for what is life? Is it making memories, or just an endless strife? Perhaps it’s a journey, through paths unknown, The paths on which our dreams are sown. Or is it mere existence, with a purpose unclear, But just existing, my friend, is as good as death, i fear. Maybe it’s waking up to morning’s first light, Facing each moment with a smile, even when the situation is god damn tight. Is it a canvas to be filled with hope and confrontation of fears, On which the colours to be used are laughter and tears. But in the end, we shall see, Life’s true beauty, it lies in its mystery.