In the midst of a strange city,
I stare across the busy crowd.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face—
Waiting in vain,
Behind this window pane.



Empty words of an empty soul..


Everyone would be tired of my dramas.

But not my pen,

Not this paper;

Not the teardrops on my roof,

Not this cup of coffee and a book.

Not my only companion

during deep nights

of haunted thoughts.

Maybe one day,

I’d just disappear,

But not this melody

I’d always wanted to hear.

And the words I scribbled

On the once unstained pages,

Will mark my once dear life;

A story that’s endless

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