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And the world around is burning
The one with the bullets is for my head gunning
My friend packed a bag and is for safety running
To land and there's no returning

You find these conversations boring
So it's a cold monosyllabic response to a cheerful"Hello Good morning"
And that is what happens when relating is based on something
Not because the company or presence is found interesting

And when there is any such event, to say there is nothing
Except, of course, there's a need for more things
And so we go back and forth like a tennis ball swinging
Only that someone's spirit is sinking

Because the realisation is suddenly dawning
That at the same pace, there isn't any running
I am in the corner quietly observing
Having experienced this,somewhat relating.

Penning down my thoughts as usual into writing
So someone somewhere can read and not be alone, feeling
Though one may strongly desire what is seemingly desiring
And if this desire isn't mutual, one is at liberty to take a retiring

Like my country plans on divorcing
A leadership that has been anything but supportive and nurturing
I wish us the best in this sojourning
While, with my pen and inanimate bestie, I continue conversing.