Skip to main content

I Was There


I Was There

 

My friend was there,

I was here,

Stuck in my own mind,

Climbing obscurities to find,

Something lost of mine.

 

Every turn,

My heart hurts,

He was there,

Because he had a mind,

That doesn’t minds.

 

A person so kind,

He was there,

But I was blind.

 

The other day,

I was blind,

But his smile never fades,

Like a flower that showers,

For uncountable decades.

 

He was learned,

Well, I was earned,

I was here,

Conquering my fears,

But he was there,

Splitting my tears.

 

I was in his mind,

He was on my nerves,

Because his destiny was straight,

But mine was curved.

 

He was there,

Like a clear mirror,

But I can’t see,

Because I was blind.

 

Today he is gone,

And I am all alone.

My eyes are open wide,

Well I can see,

But now all is lost,

The most is lost,

I am still blind.

 

He was always there for me,

But I was here carefree,

What-if I was there,

I wish I was there.

Comments

Post a Comment

If you have any dought, please let me know.

Popular posts from this blog

I Am A Poet: Short Rhyming Poems About Being Yourself

We often ask ourselves questions such as; Who am I? Where did I came from? Why I was born? Why am I like this? What are my special powers? and so on. These are called the basic questions of life and such questions arise in our minds through our senses and curiosity to discover ourselves. The element that makes us humans special is that we ask questions about our existence and our surroundings. In a nutshell, striving for the answers of those questions sum the purpose of life and living! Keeping the discussion in context here you will discover the short rhyming poems about being yourself featuring the motivational poem "I am a poet" and many more. So, let's get going! I  Am A Poet: Short Rhyming Poems About Being Yourself I am a poet, A poet am I, Why am I a poet, I never knew why? I am a poet, About night I write, Afraid when even, The day is bright! I am a poet, Afraid to be, The voice that rings, Inside of me! I am a poet, With broken wings, A bird in cage, That still d

Scars Are Beautiful - Short Inspirational Poems About Perspective

Perspective is one precious thing which makes a being unique and different from others. Perspective is the name of our opinions and remarks regarding some particular situations or things. Having a positive perspective plays a vital role in the success of an individual in his/her life.  Here you will discover the new best short inspirational poems about perspective featuring the poem "Scars Are Beautiful" and many more. Those scratches on you, that you call scars, Are pure efforts and your courage's stars, You carry the burden of pride upon your shoulders, That you were tough, tough like the boulders! Those scratches on you that you call scars, Are nostalgic, they tell the tales of your wars, Your sword of arrogance, Your ignorance's shield, With which you swept the toughest of battlefields! Those scratches on you that you call scars, Are as beautiful as rough they are! You kissed your sword and the warrior in you roared, The cries of pain as blood, sweats and tears p

Born To Fly: 14 August Pakistan Independence Day Poem

Our beloved country Pakistan is the result of drive, dedication and determination of many courageous and keen leaders including Quaid-i-Azam, Allama Iqbal, and many more. 14th August marks the end of British rule and partition which lead to the freedom movement. At this day we owe our country and our leaders a farewell and and a million thanksgivings! Here you shall discover some of the new and best patriotic poetry and patriotic poems featuring the poem "Born To Fly" and many more for the wonderful occasion of Pakistan independence day 2021 . Born To Fly - 14 August Pakistan Independence Day Poem Pakistan Flag. We were restless under a red sky, As every instance took away our breath, With every tick our hopes would die, that life was chasing our death. But life was holding on for life, On the sharp edge of a blunt knife! Birth was a curse and so was living, Unborn hawks were unborn slaves, When life was meant only giving, And our muddy fortresses were open graves; Upon which