Why do we learn?
Why do we grow?
Where do we see ourselves?
Where do we want to go?
Look at us... Moving toward...
with no idea of where we came from.
I am lost
A traveller under a cloudy sky
A saviour in chains
A boy whose freedom's bound by mind
where it only rains
I'm a merchant that has none to sell
But only perfect dreams
A runner that has no legs
A boy whose tears fill streams...
I'm painter that uses black and white
A carpenter of souls
A boy that wants to differ the world
A boy that's full of holes
Oh why do I still want to write?
What get I from this?
perhaps these lines that bound my pen
is freedom that I miss...
© Naadir Vorajee