I feel something in my veins, And it is not just blood. It's is the lava out of my brain, And the pain of my adrenaline Which cries inside deep, And burn me from within. Here I go, With the rain, With the storm. Here I run out of this world Where I do not belong. I know. Oh and the rush hour halts. Finally.
The wheel is not stopping, The generation tree is growing and growing. I think, I am the past, the future. I the present – listening and answering.
Those were the times, which made her bold. Those were the times, She loved her identity and her scars too. She never wants any of her story to get wasted, She never wants to waste even a single second. At that time, She became a smile on her face, And she is now on mine too.