RedPaper.in | Poetry
What is the necessity of life,
a girl and her beautiful love.
Two motionless hand in hand,
And a fake honest club.
The partial hope the temporary feeling ,
The unreal wound and its expensive healing .
It is the tribute to all the love demons,
The destroyers of sensitivity of life and fresh enraptured dawn.
The rain wanted someone to apprehend her,
From the immature glimpses of the world wanted someone to defend her.
Artificially pampering each other just like a child,
In the age of infant-hood the minds gone wild.
Seven weddings – seven lives,
One life and seven wives.
Abbreviating themselves with the name of God ,
Give a huge round of applause for the world’s most decent frauds.
When decisions adorned with monopoly become the condition of survival,
And relationship can be best described as between profane and the bible.
One is immensely religious and one is incredibly divine,
When beloved transform into a property,
Which is only mine.
When love ultimately finds its place of birth,
And mind realizes ,
Fiction of mingled souls has no worth.