WHAT HAVE I BECOME

There's nothing to feed,
no food for mind
no thoughts to secrete
what have i become
this wasn't me; no this wasn't me.

something has gone wrong,
this is not the place where i belong,
i don't know for how long'
i have been running from myself,
what have i become; my sweetest friend.

just trying too flee; that's all i ever did,
yes this is not me; me was a lil kid,
who once played with sticks,
showed my friends some new learnt tricks,
on a black guitar; which never came with a pick.

as i grew up; i lots my black guitar,
time might have left it with many scars,
may be it too feels lost and alone,
just like me my guitar too moans,
i want to hug my guitar once more.

nothing is ever lost,
it gets trampled upon for a while,
so bring out your shovel; and give it a good file,
some will have to dig a hole; some have to dig a mine,
because life layers up as we pass through the sands of time.



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