The streets...

By: Mohana

The streets flooded with a plethora of colours which made it hard to see the abyss of darkness above every person ever to walk.The bashful clouds hesitated to speak up. As the raindrops fell gently onto one's umbrella, I realized how vulnerable one can be and how the rain isn't strong enough to drown one's thoughts.

The lampposts across the streets remind one, how ravishing and manipulative the darkness can be.

How darkness can make it his life’s mission to make us run. The lights that lit up one's path, reminded one how its better to light your way than to be cursed by darkness.

Heavy footsteps, making ripples in the nearby gloomy puddles that spread across, suggests the tendency and dependency in one. Every footstep leaves a trace. But will every step be remembered?

As the rain drummed its finger on one's umbrella and as the umbrella protected one, many eventually see over realism; it still isn't big enough to cover the forgery in one's true identity. In one's smile.

What is my true identity?

Here we go again, desperately searching for our answers on the cobbled stoned streets. Walking without a defined destiny...