Cuts

The cuts and the bruises never faded 

Rather it freshened very often. 

The pangs never left for the 

Words fell upon the wounds again and again. 

Nobody meant anything to anybody,

Nobody is anybody's anyone.

Nothing - and that is the Word!

It's Nothing, Nothing is Nothing. Nothing at all. 

There was no distance covered, 

It seemed, when walked miles

And hence, lots of miles were covered later to be heard why. 

But when somebody gives to be somebody's someone, 

the disguises revealed, the truth surfaced.

To keep one's head high and to sustain the dignity 

Is to ignore the existence of that thunderous clouds

That often strike off the dry leaves from the tree

Which one's fed it.