Sore of Heart- VIII

Don’t know how the surface will act,

When I’ll take my next leap.

Hope won’t end up again, with swollen face

And eyes that will weep.

Huge pressure on shoulders,

To prove myself my worth.

Playful living with lugubriousness behind,

And life full of mirth.

Sore of heart – VII

And I realized what I miss,

Affectionate hug, and

On my cheeks, a loving kiss.

Devoid of care,

Burdened with parentage,

I regret being born.

My attribute are falling,

And labelled,

                        feet of peacock; scorn.

They do; and then underline,

Admit I am indebted, but even in absence

Would’ve done pretty fine.

Rape my conscience, you

Say I care,

Leave or let me go,

Don’t come nor let me come near.