Behind The Clock…
Hiding below the surface of reality,
Have found refugee in the hands of fantasy.
Illusion is what lies ahead,
Stimulating my crazy head.
The clock tictacs as the time passes away,
All I can think is you in my memory.
In my soul you’ve been engraved, deep within
And keep you there, odd things between…
Can’t seem to touch with my grasp,
I can’t longer hold on with my clasp.
It is strange you’re not so far,
It is shows that you really are…
Cool exterior is my false facade,
Like a pompous admiration is what I hide.
Can’t stop to think of you everyday,
To meet you one day, Is all I pray.
It turns out I am already in disarray,
Your voice is like a gentle whisper.
Your thoughts always made me wonder,
Your smile if the curable answer.
To all these things that makes me whimper…
I am embrace with invisibility,
I have this unnoticed agility.
Invaded by hollowness ,
Torn asunder thoughts, its craziness.
Sometimes I think your mirage, an illusion,
Ironically you have a different devotion.
Don’t know when to get it all out in these walls ?
Confuse and sandwich still between truth and false…
© 2012 Pimmi Nag