Is that what we call life
My life needs some diturbance,
Or else it's becoming like an old placid lake.
Long forgotten,
Without even a single ripple.
A lake formed when a meteor hit the trunk of earth and
created a dent and over the period water drained into it.
and thus born was the lake,
A lake that stinks of chemicals out of the meteor
which man hasn't been able to decode, as the basic elements are not in our periodic table.
No microorganism can live in it.
All I need is some one to sit on it's bank,
And throw pebbles
And enjoy the ripples.
I'm hoping against all odds that one day a little kid,
Come across the damp woods,
And rediscover me.
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