Imagine life like a bag of different sweets; the sweets are our feelings,
Take a sweet from the bag and give me for each a meaning.
Imagine the first one being love; what would your definition be,
Your experience of heavenly auras or an answer given more intelligently.
A poison that forces insecurities upon others when drowned by it,
Internal bleeding in rejection; travel to other worlds like the sound flying.
Heavenly bliss that's stirred in our most lonesome hearts,
A whisper amongst the gems of the sky the hopeful stars.
Pick the next sweet; oh dear you have picked up despair,
When our hearts are shattered and broken beyond repair.
That is when you feel sorrow; misery drowned in the shadows,
Swimming in the depths of life thinking how everything was shallow.
As you cry in the silent nights with despair haunting you,
Your failed attempts to sleep because of the past that's taunting you.
Pick the next sweet; and define what for you is joy,
When life is becoming everything you want from every choice.
Remembering how you grew up as a child; as a young girl or boy,
when you was too shy to speak for yourself; a quiet voice.
Playing in the meadows with your friends and family,
Listening to odes and melodies in your realistic fantasies.
In that world there was never such a thing as agony,
As you lived in every harmony, a life so happily.
Pick the next sweet and define for me your hatred,
Like hating someone in school that bullied you; and you couldn't face it
Wishing only now that those regrets could be factions and replacements,
Burning in the fire of self worth; everything that you hated.
Dreaming an alternate world in which you had defaced him,
Then realizing it's nothing but a memory and you wish to erase it.
Pick the next, oh there's nothing left; nothing remains.
This is all that we can now feel because our hearts are restrained.
And detained; to the evils of the world that now is enraged.
Now all you hold is an empty bag which once contained many sweets,
Little chocolates in a world that symbolized many dreams.
Do we also live fantasies; is there another life for when we sleep?
This is a cold life; as we wait for death to reap.
© 2013, Mohammed Muavia Raja a.k.a MaaviPoet