On the roads that we walk,
There are leaves that are shed,
From the trees once green,
Where flowers once bred,
With some voices that whisper,
But no memories in their head,
Every sound from the nature’s core says,
“Some words are better left unsaid”

In the minds of people,
There are ‘talks’ that rest,
With tingling in the stomach,
Trapped air in their chest,
Ready to burst out every word they hold,
They still want to be an egg in the nest,
Speaking high but telling low,
Some wish to see blue even in red,
‘I wish’ becomes ‘I want’ when they say,
“Some words are better left unsaid”

When blue sky suddenly appears red,
And birds flying instantly go dead,
When something inside haunts you to insanity,
And you are surrounded by questions of duality,
Can you still rise while the surface goes down?
Can you still blame time for destroying your town?
The words you decided not to be told,
On them, have you still got your hold?
When untangling the words raises you from dead,
Would you still say “Some words are better left unsaid”

©Varun K. Sharma

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