How does it feel:
To live the same life?
To read the same story in the same book?
Listen to the same song?
Watch the same movie ever and ever again?
I know it doesn't matter to you
For I am not the same all the time
I hate you for being so perfect
but I hate myself more
for changing my hues so often
like the sky of a melancholy evening
How can we still be in love?
Do u have a clue?
May be that is what is called
The green in my blue.
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4 comments:
i wud take unpredictable and ever-changing over the comfort of same-ness anyday :)
liked the poem :)
PS: hvnt seen u around in a while
How can we still be in love?
Do u have a clue?
May be that is what is called
The green in my blue.
............................. i cnt express how much thz lines touched me
Being perfect all the time means to be very rigid in everything. There is no scope or tolerance for mistakes. And, that means differences between the perfect and imperfect are too huge for any sort of friendship, association or reconciliation.
Like Chhaya said, I would also like to remain unpredictable and transformable than be part of a never changing world.
one thing someone told me long back is stilletched in my heart and always will...
"Change is the only constant"
the last two lines create a perfect blend for the whole poem...you have an amazing unorthodox way of writing buddy...i love it...
Regards,
The Silhouette...
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