Poked a few pencils in my eyes,
It never rhymed the way it used to,
Our love was like two parallel lines,
We scribbled a few triangles,
And we scribbled a few squares,
But our heart never had a circle,
What went around never came back,
So the feeling of sadness swept over me,
Took a pencil, poked a few holes in a paper,
And the lines rhymed for the first time,
Miseries and tragedies are a poet’s soul mate,
And the parallel lines meet for the first time,
And the theories of maths went haywire that time,
Poked a few holes in a few scientists tonight,
So they dropped their lab coats and sheets,
Picked up a broken pencil and scribbled,
A few theories tonight,
That rhymed for the first time,
And the whole world witnessed the power,
Of rhymes and verses for the first time,
When I poked a few holes in the sky,
And the earth and sky meet for the first time,
Amalgamation was beautiful from naked eyes,
But the shallow people left a few blotches,
On the skin of the clear sky,
But I remained unperturbed and woken,
And my eyes never slept for the first time,
And drew a probability and a possibility,
That merged together and created hope,
For the first time and so everyone rejoiced,
And I felt miserable for the first time,
As each and every person thought he was a poet,
And so the poets took the path,
Of the parallel lines.
