In the fabric of her hurting heart, I played my part,
A healing bandage to mend the ache, a soothing start.
But now the wounds are closed, the pain has flown,
I fear the time has come; I'll be cast away, alone.
An umbrella in the storm of her teary strain,
Shielding her from the downpour, embracing the rain.
But now the clouds have cleared, the skies unfold,
No longer needed, my love story starts to fold.
I stitched the hurt with threads of care,
Now the fabric frays, suspended in the air.
As the storms of her past finally say goodbye,
I am left alone beneath the empty sky.
In the garden of love, I was a bloom,
A fragrant flower dispelling the gloom.
But as seasons shift, petals will be strewn,
Murphy's hand at play, and I face a lonely moon.
In the echoes of each question, a silent plea,
Why does Murphy's law unravel destiny for me?
Yet, in the chapters of my life's unknown,
Murphy's script unfolds, and I stand alone.