Serenade

I couldn’t even live up to me.

Rainbows slept in riverbeds
Watching skies go blind by the world.

Rainbow isn’t in it. The world.
“Count me out!”, he said.

“I couldn’t even live up to me.”
The morning star sighed.

The green new leaf that just felt the coming of an winter in the air, meant no disrespect to the ancient curves of the tree, but whistled just to cheer the dreams and stories ahead.

The old crumbled and bent over.
While the young gave their time away to nothing.
Motherless children roamed fairy tales.
Childless mothers too.
“I cannot even live up to me.”
They both said.

While endless faces looked into mirrors,
and said,”I don’t like you!”
Where vines have crawled unkept and careless.

All things grow to die.
And here! The parchments filled with the notes.
Incoherently coherent.

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