How do you feel when you bleed? Does it feel like the pain will vanish, when there is nothing left to bleed anymore?
Does it hurt like stepping on seashells barefoot on a stony beach, while running in vain after the waves of the treacherous sea?
How does it feel when the heart bleeds? Does the fear of not meeting the expectations overwhelm the deep dark sea of anguish in a sense of dissatisfaction?
When I look back at what what was going on over the ages of my unbecoming, shall I be able to subside the pain?
Why is the pain around me encircling with such a tune of heart wrenching melancholy, drooping acids on the surface of my soul?
The lullaby sounds like an elegy; laments at the epitaphs of the greatest warriors of the earth. Why isn’t there an uproar?
Poetic Stories 
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