I see a corny mark
In our souls of drowning days
fading nights, lost in
that sad semblance of being awake
While we taper our life’s chase.
They find a handful of misery
in suffering’s destiny
We crawl to last the day,
find mushy bliss in monotony
And some pleasant flavor to reveal
The melodies beneath the drudges
And the smiles that whispers
joy to the winds.
The love that lost its trail
And where emotions were immeasurable
That were the hours of our youth
bliss-dipped in bitter heartbreaks
That brief touch of an aching heart
There is a corny streak
That blazes our nights to the rubble
Its an art , Its a sacrifice
That impedes the feather of time
in solemn quest of beauty.