When the tear-drops fall down your skin ,it's called emotion. When the rain drop tickles your flesh its called sensation. When the paint brush splatters the canvas, its called imagination. But have you wondered why even then every soul that cries has no name to it?
An eye so soaked, with drops unheard, a soul that weeps makes me so weak!
A question so simple, that has no answer
To the pains they live through dark and light.
Torn apart ,or is it a scar?
Still abashed for the reason they dig,
Is this destiny or destined to be ?
They need a reason, a reason to be !
Drenched in blood, the mortals that laid
'Why me?! Why me?!', the treble gets raised
A seismic plea needs to be in place
To save the bones that get scattered ahead
Seize their jungles and deserts and plain
We'll fight these jugglers ,in the jugglers domain !!