Crushed roses

Crushed roses

I love you is a fib but would you still love me forever?
Forever is an illusion would be said by the clever,
Promises are locutions pronounced in the present to harass the future,
Heartbreaks are nothing but witless deceiving rumours,
Good memories are overshadowed by the gray times that are yet to arrive,
Predicted by a fool who visits his own burial chamber three four times,
Empirical knowledge can only be gained when things go according to the devil's plan,
You wont always be protected by your mother's Eveready rescue clan,
Crushed roses are still roses maybe a little twisted and folded,
A torn heart is still a heart maybe a little wiser and moulded,
 Got a heart that weighs a thousand ton but they say its empty,
Boasting in public about one's affliction is not a sort however they tempt thee.

Salt ain't sugar though they look familiar,
Perceive closely then it appears clear,
Judging from afar is as easy as swanking about your toil all yearlong,
Understanding things aptly helps keep priorities on the top,
Struggling to connect the dots of life together to make it a whole,
To be honest i wish i could just connect to life a little more,
Living in a self-created room full of limitations and restrictions,
That holds back the past that flashes every second like a unruly thought addiction,
Crushed roses are still roses just twisted and folded,
Misunderstanding is still understanding just mislead and misguided,
Insightful individuals also fail in discerning chimera with euphoria,
That's the convention of attraction to experience something largely with no criteria.

Navigating through the subways dressed up as dolos struggling to find Asteria,
Same way as broadcasting intimate conversations on the media,
Faith surrounded by lurking confidential affairs,
With a foundation so frail and prone to tear,
Pillars dont fall apart from the external force applied,
Howsoever they break down of what's used inside,
Leaking hollow hearts can be seen through the rotten holed chest,
Though the gunshots went straight into the head,
Crushed roses are still roses just twisted and folded,
Broken trust is still trust just depressed and deep wounded,
Depending upon everyone that crosses the way i tread,
Considering suffering vital for survival till the end I grew dead

 - Akshada Mishra.