Makhtub, living life as it comes

I can write no more, I can write no more, Of fear, of death, of destruction, I can write no more, Of pain, suffering, of joy I can write no more, Of illusions of life, I can write no more, Of thoughts, feelings I can write no more, Of all that is good, I can write no more, Of all that is bad, I can write no more,, I can write I can write NO MORE

Tears, involuntarily flow through Hidden for years thorough and pure One for the inner child One for the lost child One for all that was meant to be mild Tears, involuntarily flow through Never shed, never spoken about  One for the instances  One for the reactions  One for all the one put on self called restrictions  Tears, involuntarily flow through Never discussed, never debated One for a memory One for a thought  One for all those people held once close to heart  Tears, involuntarily flow through Once bitten, twice bitten, forever shy lie they within...

A thousand words, spoken and heard, Though, there was was just words How they behave are for their own dilemmas,  Onerous and generous are they in function throughout  Undermine them, they bite, Grow them, they bite harder How many ever times one changes them again,  Thoroughly vengeful they remain  Words, vengeful and silent  Omnipotent they claim not to be  Day in  and day out do they tumble off thoughts, deeds, not holding them dear, Remain as they always are, ready to drop all for few drop of tears Somehow, someway, all that they desire is not for stillness or finesse A thousand words, spoken and heard  Nothing is said, nothing is heard, yet all understood 

Thunderstorms, said the heart, paining,  Raining torrential sheets of rain and pain One moment there, the next gone away,  Under the eye and through the heart, physical pain was but a medium, Growing, binding and arresting within, Hauling Mental agonies were all but the real game changers  Thunderstorms, bore the heart and threw open the melee of thoughts again.. Immense are all the acts of simple gestures to useless features, Me, I and myself are all that was concerned about Every perspective changed are but words reformed  Promises and farces made for ages and ages but break away in an instance .. Thunderstorms .. silent thunderstorms 

Curled up in a corner One after the other does the lightning hit across the face Many faces and hearts are strained and stretched in ways incomprehensible to scotoma Entrails get strewn all around with all the heart left charred... Lonely and bereft, pain is a constant reminder of a sum, Innate calculations and inherent qualities all are but thrown across the curb, O.. Very many are the facets of life than sums and divides of an emoting wanderer, Every life has its moments, most in the shadow, yet not all find joy in the light above Life.. A journey taken in the moments of each facets Intuition they say, inhibitions take their places and rule  that are filled with I For many are the social mores to follow and lived around for.. Every one changes with time akin to withered leaves, leaving one in spots same as before