Its the wind blowing gently,
And wildly, simultaneously,
Its the sway of the fields,
The way the air yields.
It's the breeze in your hair,
The silence in the air,
The warmth of your skin,
The soul ignited within.
Its the careless laughter,
And the smile that follows after,
Its the countless tear stains,
On your windowpane.
Its the screaming,
Shadows in your dreaming,
The secrets whispered,
With no feelings considered.
Its the adrenaline rushes,
Paint-stained paintbrushes,
Scattered chess pieces,
Frown line creases.
Goodbye kisses,
Reminiscences,
Remnants of pain,
Driving us insane.
Its life, c'est la vie,
Et mei memores estis?
No, you'll move on,
Life goes on.
Life is hurt, love and disaster,
Tears, blood, a cast of plaster,
Etched in memories,
Of who you have been.
Life is an abyss of screaming,
Laughing, crying, dreaming,
Breaking, running, flying,
Living, loving, dying.