The poet wondered if the pen would delay....
Flames shaped something new Something worth the struggle and pain
And with every single brick Its dominance grew like a snowball
Those lines began to get clearer That were blurred by the fresh daze
Too soon to leave Comforting cocoon of darkness and desolation.
Change is inevitable Still we fret in its terror
Maybe you’ll get lost forever.
While reviving the lost cause We’ll still fight inner wars
With time you both made up Despite her ugly face
I am the same person But somehow I am different