_____________________
I could grow up or be a kid,
According to the situation.
Would've won a thousand Grammy's
Along with being a neurosurgeon.
Only if I could get that damn number.
I would call her and ask her to meet,
Then firstly punch her on the face
And later beg her on my knees,
'Cause she, the writer of my life
Really fucked up on this piece.
Taught me how to breathe,
But never how to be alive.
Had made a perfect predesign,
But later just for fun ,
turned off the light.
So oh! The writer of my life,
It's a deal for a rewrite.
I've travelled many ways,
But never reached a destination,
Only if the author could give her time,
And have a simple conversation.
We'd sit together & have some tea,
& discuss 'bout any heights in my reach,
Or atleast my potential death scene.
Would rather be a bitch than a jewel,
But got suffocated with my own fuel,
O! The very writer of my life,
All I ask for is a rewrite.
Never ever wanted a prince,
To jump in and save me,
But a prenotice before the great war,
Would've been appreciated.
If there's any fragment of my soul left,
Then you're probably it's jailor,
But about the book of my life,
Which is now an
enclydopodia of failure.
Only if we could have a meet,
And rewrite this fucked up piece.
_____________________
-N
YOU ARE READING
Running From Reality✓
Poetry(Featured in Wattpad's Lyrical Poetry Reading List.) (Featured in Whattpad's Ambassador's shorts and poems reading List.) As a child, we all had our own sort of vision of how the world might be when we'll go out to explore it . I remember changing m...
