The Speakingg Soul

She is a journal Of unheard desires. Copenhagen garden Layering fires. Tangled knots With anchor bites. You never opened What she hides. She is a diary Of bare lines, Veiling enigmas And cloaked lies. A rugged cover  with tanned pages,  Holds all the worth  The world desires.

 I am a plushie. But I'll lose my bounce  if you touch me. I may be sweet. But I will loose my life  If you taste me. Wondering who I am ? Cotton candy ..... Yes I am hairy  Oh ! heat played it's turn  Melted the sugar Made it fun.

 It's your speech  How can I forget  Little high But like a peach That Creamy  Tangy  Talks  That hid The hard heart behind A cute ,tender  Skin of rose

 Let me check the pot It has a lot To eat  To drink To keep To save Oh no  It's broken Not the pot  But the thought  That you are not gone

Come with me I will show you how I loose The water  The air  The fragrance  The root Of bonds Of emotions  Of body Of people How it changes The nature  I call  It Never let me  Hold  The pain  The gain The Butterly games You know I am Lotus  I take the chain From soggy to Dry  From running to stay The potion I have  They  say that say

 Hate me now for saying ...  I was hidden in a fleshy cave Unleashed  covering  of whatever you gave Not to jump ,walk or run But to have wings of worldly fun  Yes you got me right It were you the fleshy cave Holy imprisonment that you gave culturally deeds that you made  Proved that you are brave. You got the trophy of  now being a slave. But the realisation will be too late. My dear friend  This butterfly woke up now from a caterpillar's grave.