Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
And it is still the road ahead of me.
And it is still the night
daunting the sky.
The distance to be travelled seems to be endless
for the urge to arrive.
The scenery changes around,
diving into a wall of fog.
The soul haunted by your eyes,
Saddened I;
feeling warm swathed in a cloak of lies.
With crumbled sentences,
dropped like dead weights
over my indecisive and half-closed lips.
With nowhere to go,
I stumble into thorns of what we once called love.
