Something, somehow;
Anything, anyhow;
Please do something-
Make it better;
In this world of peace and crimes,
I know you will answer sooner or later.
I've only looked up,
Never down
But nothing ever went right
I lost time, not hope;
Just let my wishes in your sight.
You're my mother, my father, my Guardian Angel;
I know you looked at me sometime
You know of my existence and that I seek your blessings
Just shower me with some illuminating, faithful light.
Dear God, I don't still ask for riches of the world,
I wouldn't spare them another glance!
If only you'd just listen to me,
All I ask for, is to be able to dance.
Author's Note:
I don't know how much of sense this poem would make to you, probably none at all; but it tells the most vital story of me.
Apart from loving to write, I'm a dancer at heart, and my lovely parents absolutely refuse to understand that. No, fitness, physique, and health related stuff doesn't matter to them at all (which I more than just hate), and the fact that I love to dance? Unmanageable.
Why do we teenagers have problems more than we can face?!
I swear I'm going to write a whole book on 'How To Survive With Your Parents.' I love them and all, but they don't know the value of passion and chasing dreams- the worst part.
There are so many 'if only(s)...' in life.
YOU ARE READING
The Written Word
ПоэзияA collection of poems ranging from love to hate and every feeling one encounters in his/her life. Anthology.