Raindrops on thorns...

So how does the rain falling on the the Qutab look? Beautiful I'm sure...
I'm sitting locked up in the four walls of a routined, mundane existence...
We try to forget the beauties that lie outside while we trudge rather mechanically on our ways...And pretend that the rain doesn't exist... And while we negate the beauties that lie outside, we diminish our souls that lie within...

After a blistering Summer, comes the rain to soothe the parched land of its arid woes. So, too does a new love, to allay the doubts in a pessimist who has lost the power to believe...

So how does the rain falling on the Qutab look? For you still have eyes to see... I have no sight, no appreciation of the myriad beauties that surround me... I have just fears... Fears that keep me alive, the fears that kill me everyday... Good sense and rationality are old companions now... Fear is the monarch of all that it surveys in the mind and heart. Undisputed, it thwarts all positive feelings and conquers happiness. It's sucking out my life from me.

I'm a lifeless body, as I lie in bed. Writhing in pleasure, wincing in pain. But still I'm lifeless. Like a whore who feels casual pleasure but feels no love. A transaction, signed, sealed and delivered.

She sees no love and feels even less...
You move in and out, you don't know what you do...
Sometimes, I'm uncertain...
Sometimes, I imagine it's not even you...

You ask me why I cry,
I know not why I do...
It's just the pain that I feel inside,
The pain of being with you.