Season, as per season, changing along,
then to number one goes the frozen heart.
A circle since the birth and never gone wrong,
carrying on the pain, like a form of art.
A daily Hurdle.
Then to the beginning, all had to start.
A last standing in the field of all time,
withered by the struggles, the ups and downs.
Innocent to be is the only crime,
A confused blind and poor, crowded by the sounds.
Urging a hug.
Dead, yet keeping the shoot on battling grounds.
Rosy, were the dreams dreamt on the summit,
but no rainbow shone nor the rain did fall.
Waiting for fate's mercy like a puppet,
and even beliefs dismissed the sacred call.
A weeping bloom.
And the rosy dreams are born to be small.
Rejected, this is all the offers to be,
what in the power that could have been done?
Then after, Death would be the only sea,
to swim in, calmly, away from the sun.
Only then, the life of Life will be won.