Stung by an unknown bee,
With falling steps randomly;
Tiring, Bleeding, Murmuring to myself…
A drop of blood from my brain to heart;
A hint of sweat from my toe to hairs…
With a trail,
That doesn’t last long, much;
It starts, shatters, walks,
pops, lifts and then dies…
To a path which doesn’t get steps,
With a step which doesn’t make sound;
Sounds of deep slumber…
It doesn’t get heard;
It goes… it comes…
It moves… it jumps…
It talks only to himself;
Though with the loudest thuds,
It doesn’t get noticed…
Doesn’t create attention…
Lacks sensation;
A slumber in peace…
A thought in motion…
A mind in capture…
A heart in prison…….
Its a general one; nothing specific.. read the words, not my mind.. :P
