They touches my soul


The din of mourful songs

Makes me feel that as if I lost someone my own

And it brings tears to my eyes

When I witness my own dying soul

Those crying faces stifles my cerebrals

And I still can’t understand

Why some people are poor, when others are on peeks of opulence

I’am afraid and I’am sad

And now I realize that is all circumstances that turns good to bad

Everything seems to be in my hand

But still to go ahead

Sometimes I lack the perfect plan

Their tears hurts me again

And their sorries becomes without any bargain

If prayers do have no ends

Then I’ll definitely pray for them till my end

© Akhand Singh, 2008 © An Empty Glass, 2008

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