Pearls of white thou I shed for,
Turn yellow from white into pale,
The vacuum in my heart and soul though,
Denies no volume in the pail.
I've cried ever and ever more,
Till the last drop of sober monsoon rain,
Comes awry dampening my spirits,
As the sorrow in my heart begets stain.
At life I've looked askance,
Into your violet that mirrored my soul,
Often than not when my eyes have numbed,
And lusterless I felt gaping at a whole.
The balance I search for in you,
As I see myself together with hope anew,
But the warm monsoon rains wipe away,
Strip me of the mellowed hue.
I've lived and so I've wiped,
Atleast a thousand benign teardrops,
To my heart's dismay they have strived,
And endured a valley of remorse.
But I see no pain no more,
And I've heeded talks of old men,
Who have through despair and sore,
Led my mind to assay ever more.
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