Fix Poem by Shruti Goswami

The last sounds of footsteps resound on the path,
Sprinkled with unknown wild flowers,
Somewhat trampled;
And the verdant lush of the grass,
A wee bit faded.

I don't know where that muddy road leads to,
But I don't want to return home.

It's a strange feeling,
When the one you look most forward to,
Repels you in ways never imagined.
As the joy of sound and laughter in the air,
Becomes an obligation,
When you don't even want to smile.
When you yearn for solitude
Through the silent sound of falling raindrops,
The rain just won't fall, instead a coldness descend
And you are thrown into a rain of crowd.

Just doing nothing, sometimes mean everything,
And having all just means nothing.
For its better to be alone with your self,
Than be lonely in a crowd.
I do want to return home,
But then I do not want to anymore.