Wednesday, 25 February 2015

Ballast

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On every page of life comes some or the other dissatisfaction, the hindrance that demassifies a person to the extent, the person loses all hope for seeking out ecstasy. The trouble, the glut of desolation just gulps down, just to spit you out.

Willing to kill you
It wills to tear you apart
Wanting to hunt you
It wants to fear you somehow

Give it your openness
Give it your ownself
It will desolate you
Split you from your own self

Turning sweet to sour
No vibes your powerhouse will feel
Your lights turned off
No sight of sweetness you will see

The land beneath you
Tend to swallow you bold
You feel the rains of ashes
The fire too will be cold

Hold your hands
Put up your collar
Be the survivor
Be the damn, tough survivor

Your own protection you are
Your heads held up
Spit the poison out
All your weapons dropped

You have your own back
Don’t you lose your shine
Count the million reasons of euphoria
Dominate those hundreds to die

Life hands you lemon
Make it an orange juice
Make even God wonder "HOW?"
While with eminence you fuse!

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