Wishu Sindhu

Spring is Dead

He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise. ~Oscar Wilde






Sometimes the Sun shines so very brightly
 That it makes my eyes hurt
 I overdose on feelings of ecstasy
 They make me overexert

 Sometimes this world turns so gray
 I can't feel. Nothing to say
 To anyone, everyone; yes that includes you too
 Back off! One more word and I'll snap you into two

 I wish it could rain
 I wish you could see
 I'm OK with the pain-
 -You cause, but not with the blame

 Spring is dead, it won't ever come
 Not even in my dreams
 Rain seems near, but I'm so numb
 You can't hear silent screams

 So, run away or wait till the summer comes back
 'coz spring is dead, and yes my heart is black

© Poetry.com