Pens and Pages

Of outbursts and outcries of myths and lies in that gentle veil of silence the love so pure, dies The heart wails and it bleeds for all it couldn't get and all it needs And he's punished he's torn for all that is red for all he had worn  There were wounds there were scars and he was tied behind the bars Oh, there was laughter and there was cure there was lunacy and there was lure There was lust on top of hatred's pile there were the unfulfilled desires and a wicked smile Oh, there was freedom there was salvation but he knew it cannot die not his own creation On the path of oblivion lied his grave, treacherous and so he awaited, unaware of the fate precarious...

(We, the contributing authors of   Kaleidoscope  were wondering how to make our weekends more productive and so we came up with the idea of conducting contests among ourselves inviting honest criticism from each other. Below is the first one - To write in 300 words, one's perception of the picture below)  I often find myself trapped between my other two sides. On evenings like these,when the setting sun of life draws a curtain upon my peaceful existence,I begin to introspect. I am lost in the chaos of my own silence as I discover my other sides. I am tired with the days happenings, of my failure that vapourises my prior feats. Like the early bird, that returns home with the pride of touching the blue skies along with the regrets to fall back on the land. I was the winner all along. I still am! Stars never fall to dust, nor do they fade when the nights get the darkest. This is one of those dark nights. While I am caught midway with repeated failures to fly ...