Tanned skin, the burning sun
Deprived of originality
we make our world
How original is it now?
Fast paced, the undesired marathon
raging crave to succeed
we make our world
by winning lonely races?
Swimming in tit for tats
Dwelling in brickbats
we make our world
A hero with losing morales?
Realization...
There are times when time stops
And you find yourself
balancing on those slippery rocks
just to feel the chillness of river.
Stillness amidst the lovely flow
revolting thoughts and pacifying memories
staring at the lonely river
fighting to find the lonely shore
we make our world
time to find our identity?
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