Stolen.

The messed up hair.
The silence that was there.
The window that's always closed.
The drawer that has a rose.

The locket with the broken chain.
The scars that no more give pain.
The nails that never seem to grow.
The tears her eyes won't show.

The lips that went untouched.
The perfect plans they fucked.
The arms that didn't take him in.
The moments she wondered, "where has he been?"

Everything that went broken.
The hearts that were stolen.
They've parted ways now.
She's a changed person without a doubt. 

But it's okay really. 
The season's going to change again.
And after the interval, her story begins.

Soon.

The sun's so bright,
But it doesn't feel so right.
The end's maybe here,
I'm screaming but there's no one to hear.

It's okay to feel alone.
It's okay to be lost.
Feels like loosing your favourite top,
Even before wearing it once.

How bad it could be in the end?
What's the use of calling these people, "friends"?
They don't even deserve to have you,
With or without them, the night's still going to turn blue.

You don't care. That's what you're going to show them anyway.
No, not again. You're not going to ask them to stay.
It's going to be okay soon,
The storm's going to be over. And then we'll have monsoon.