Occult

As I keep getting occult,

Lost in this concrete jungle.

Walking down the burning pass,

Breathing the air pyre,

I ask to my soul and fate,

Can we

Live a butterfly?

Can we

Dance like there’s no other life?

Fly as it’s afterlife?

I enter a doorway,

Caged,

Probably keeping stray out,

None a difference to notice.

All the bots,

Black suit, donning pout.

But this is their jungle

And I am a nomad.

So I keep walking down the pass,

No questioning to their sway

Stark realisation, a humane contemplation.

We ain’t be

Living a butterfly,

We ain’t be

Giving it another try…

I see pillars holding down the structures,

Smoothened down in humbleness.

All the weight that the jungle offers,

These pillars have to be their for wealth…

I hug one,

Cold and tainted,

Metaphors fainted,

And a look to the sky,

the middle of the night.

Let those stars shine out.

Sit back

And let the world cry loud….

Let’s

Live a butterfly,

Be it the longest fight.

This is the world where lovers lie.

It’s better to live a butterfly..