something infiniteLy interesting
sometimes,, or most of the times actuaLLy,,
you Let things fLow
from your head to the tips of your fingers
from your heart to the air that you exhaLe
sitting by the door steps makes us
want to be a cHiLd once again,,
we feeL so Left out
by the person we shouLd've been...
who are these peopLe passing by?
whose are these voices we hear not from afar?
you and i are not empty.
it just feeLs hoLLow inside..
the air offers minumum sadness as
it runs over your skin,, for you to remember
we are consumed by time..
can we remember?
can Life forgive if we tend to forget?