You never know when you might be seeing someone for the last time.
If we will keep on comparing our self with others on basis of things they have and we don’t have till that time we will never grow, we will start growing on the day when we stop comparing our self.
I’m stuck here alone with little else but memories of you, on memory foam.
Filled with relics of regret, paying dues to every moment wasted, on words left unsaid.
I’ll kill for one more day, to pool my thoughts, and find the words to say.
They say love and hate are closely tied, that they can turn at a moment’s notice.
I promise if you’re with me say the word and we’ll find a way
So here we go again, wishing that we could start again