A Room less lived in

Long ago, when there was no time,

We waited for so long, to know how old we are

We traveled so far, to know how near we should be

To ourselves.

It’s painful, when we tried to smile

At things that never went wrong

It’s disappointing when the apples do not fall

In to your garden from the neighbor’s

And when we grow some, we build walls

Around the yield and around every little thing

Long ago, when we came to know how old we were

It’s saddening to know our beliefs are synthetic  

And our travels have no ethic.

The walls, we paint them every day with a color our friends like

And grow the apples orange to make them live in our gardens

It’s hurting to see we run away from time

Though it never chased us to death, we die

Though it never requested to live, we never couldn’t

Our friends leave us and so do everyone

In our limbo of smiles and cries.

Down below the Lazarus pits

We grew up old enough to die

Only to relive every moment of our falseness

With real smiles in real times.

-Aroon Che