Hung over a string of words,
All ripe and stolen.
Where else than an outdoor?
A realm of stringent competition.
Sun itself chose moon i.e. darkenes over stories..
No winds of change
No frantic ripples of tears,
A lousy display of courage,
Slipping into falsehood.
I like falsehoods,
Don’t know why?
But it intrigues to it’s very meaning.
“Way back a little fellow grabbed a spear,
And went on a killing spree all alone,
Came back reeling with a broken shoulder,
All smeared in blood, torn apart.
Yeah total falsehood here.
To grab a spear,
Mainly to wage his war against sinisters,
Came back reeling because rage took over his breath”,
Yes, it has an edge over all of us
Oblivion has been relevant for years,
All night long, you think
Think about all the convictions,
Laid down truthfully in a manner,
All of a sudden, you get tricked
Perhaps being engrossed is a peril
All in our own efforts, good or evil
Till we get tricked into falsehood.
Staring into my ceiling,
I spread my blanket all over,
Winter and spring brewing a tale
Still buying into these tales?
Even a feather drops down,
An effort to sue up your mind with a falsehood laden tale. Hopefully it urges a feeling to stare at your ceiling with a bit of gratitude towards your own self. Take care!