"Maybe I'll be another withered dust of past,
Ashes scattered in comforting entropy....
But they shall exist in some state, I believe, 
That if decoded shall be me..... "

|| Sometimes, its cold.
Really cold,
Outside and Inside...
When static complexities 
Imprint their chaos 
On a brain too fragile...
When what you seek,
Always remains either a dream too far,
Or a lost dream of past...
When memory strands of regrets and loses remain,
While that of brighter moments fade.... ||