Being me is being in your head 24/7,Being me is having constant debates with life and death..Being me is not even being here.. Being me, is Being a watcher, a listener an observer..Being me is loving the storm and the clouds,Being me is unbashadly thinking out loud..Being me is an inability to hold a grudge..Being me is constantly feeling star-struck..Being me is being an ocean of possibilities,Being me is being silent in difficulties.. Being me is clearly not that easy.. Being me is an experiment to revive humanity..Being me is being on trips with the sun and the sea..Being me is an overdose of curiosity.. Being me is loving so-so deep, that everything I touch begins to heal..
Moon is the most beautifulamong all stars, except oneoh! that magnificent sunShe blushes and hidesWhenever he riseHe lights up the whole worldSearching for herBut she is made to be different and lonelyThis is the world's oldest lovestoryWritten on the skiesHow true love is always thereAnd miles apart,Always behind but never besideHe brings the day and she rules the night both too comfortable there to leave it beside, twilight brings the messages to them eachBecause when they meet it causes an eclipse.
Hardest thing to do is to love someoneWho won't love you backTo be there for someoneWho wasn't there for youTo still see the best in somoneWhen all they tend to show is the worst..To sacrifice for the self obsessed,To cry without making a noise,To choose someone over yourself,Who will never choose you for you.To choose the unworthy,To give heaven to the devil,To love someone who loves obsession more than love.To be a giver for the taker,To live with a restricted throat,To neglect your truth,
When I behold a forest spreadWith silken trees upon thy head;And when I see that other dressOf flowers set in comeliness;When I behold another graceIn the ascent of curious lace,Which, like a pinnacle, doth shewThe top, and the top-gallant too;Then, when I see thy tresses boundInto an oval, square, or round,And knit in knots far more than I.Can tell by tongue, or True-love tie;Next, when those lawny films I seePlay with a wild civility;And all those airy silks to flow,
Sweet serene sky-like flower,Haste to adorn her bower;From thy long cloudy bedShoot forth thy damask head!New-startled blush of Flora,The grief of pale Aurora,Who will contest no more,Haste, haste to strew her floor!Vermilion ball that's givenFrom lip to lip in heaven,Love's couch's coverlet,Haste, haste to make her bed!Dear offspring of pleased VenusAnd jolly plump Silenus,Haste, haste to deck the hairOf the only sweetly fair!