Broken Clock1 min 197 1 min 197
“There are much history preachers but fewer history creators”
I know you are done with walking on these eggshells
Your hands are numb- eyes in rheumy
In a face of courage
Hard is the wreckage
But the bird in you
Is hungry for a flight
You are dauntless, a warrior
You own a crown
Of these shattered defeats
I tell you
Wear it proudly
Let it not be unseen
Oh these heads of the crowd
Engrossed in time
Sandwiched between ethnic and dreams.
Your sky is louring but not you
You hold on things – subtle
A trauma is deadly killing you.
You are stronger
Muddled in life’s cacophony
But heading towards your own land
Let them call you an end
As you start
Inevitable loss, recorded in blind.
You, yes you
When will begin that long journey inside you?
Let the clocks be broken– timeless
Move ahead of the fever
That’s keeping your deed.