Numb

Feeling the wind, and its cry

the sorrow of burning, on every sight

days are gone, with nights to come

and I'm still, fixed to be numb

The decent scenes, the horrific love,

the passionate fever, of being dumb

caught myself, in the midst of all

found in chains, when I wanted to run

These dreadful flower, their dying scents,

their purpose of existence, is also none

in this my numbness, is as pinch of salt,

which will add to taste, of the suffering flower

Its hard to believe, harder to expect,

  its still harder, to die on bed

but can't do anything, with my numbness

have to watch this play, sitting on that bench

The bench where, nobody comes,

nobody ask me for a favour once,

under that bench, my dreams were lying

killed my innocence, with the fear to die