singing poet

i never mean to write a song
i never mean to feel so upset about the things
i never asked them to pay me
but i still dont give up to fight
my fight is weird my battle is a joke
but still my breathe is not to survive
my cry is not to release my pain
my songs are made not to be listened
If you listen you wont blink a eye
you wont breath a moment
'cos i have loved you enough
to be your friend to be your voice
all dreams at a time coming
to be seen by the eyes
to be heard by the ears....
what would you feel if the bamboo blooms
in your own eyes
will you cry for the menace people talked about
or would you enjoy the moment
trying to smell it trying to pluck it
it is happening to me
it is occurring in my only time of 27 years
So i would smell it i would bleed for it
i would die for it i would cry for it
i would laugh for it i would kill for it
to sing the songs for you
for you for you for you
i spend the nights sleeplessly
i cry with the pillows not to be seen by you
i fight with my stomach not to be ordered by them
it was happening to me it was real
now i have seen the rainbow
with its color and dispersion
no one can stop me from singing and being a poet

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