Violent storms it has weathered,
Many a tears it has sheltered,
Many a smiles it has harboured.
Now, the cracks spill your thoughts!

It hides hurt that is burning red,
Little marks of needle and thread,
Little burns of love and dread,
A wall that can't be fell?

The carefully built wall forgets
All the nights spent sleepless.
All those eternal secrets-
They show as it slips.

There's beauty in perfection?
But there's life… there’s life in
The face behind that mask..
The person under that veil.



A poet - A bookworm, definitely, a bookworm - A photographer - A simple person who loves music, making craft-y things - haunted by nightmares starring stairs without railings, spiders, snakes.