Drops Of Melancholy

Sorrow is a world,

Where the brightest of flowers

Fades away,

And there is no contrast

Between the dark and day.

The birds forget

To flap their wings

And chirp heavenly as well,

And the brightest full moon

Hides regrettably behind a veil.

The buds forget to bloom

And to metamorphose to a heap of love,

They forget their beauty

And peace of a dove.

A handful of depression

And a spoon of distress,

Salted by anger,

And a pinch of revenge fresh.

Sorrow is a nasty thing....

Inspiration to move

Forward to a cliff,

It never does matter if your

Tongue's dry or legs' stiff.

You have the thirst,

To fight, not sustain,

To escape sorrow,

You even climb a mountain.

A desert of loneliness

With a long stretch of sand,

Emerges a crave, a thirst

To reach the highland.

A source of hope,

And mother of strong will,

After the passing of it,

A beautiful world you feel.

Sorrow is an excellent thing.

Life's a canyon

Don't stop at every pit,

Awaiting is your success

Every hour, every minute.

Sorrow is just a masquerade

To enjoy the sweet and sour taste of life...