It’s like a butter on a hot pan,
Stays not longer, melts in a span.
If I was a bun, would've greased,
From a beating heart, it cannot be erased.
So are many people's promises,
Always beautifully, it disguises.
Not visible for our naked eyes,
As our hearts are blinded by lies.
A vision of greener grass,
on the other side is often an alarm false.
We all meet the same devil,
In different attire causing turmoil.
Many hearts have died,
With promises they've been slayed.
Often dressed colourfuly in a well attire,
Many are stuck and burnt in ire..
Heart is a better place for a dagger,
Creating dreams by words, it'll shatter.
A word that describes one's commitment,
Please do not use it for your entertainment.
By
Sanji-Paul Arvind
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