#poem #review #everyone
*To the boy in that cafe*
You look at me, sensing my gaze, staring at you.
I avert my eyes, leaving you to wonder what was on my mind.
You try to think of all the possible things that the random girl staring at you could be thinking.
But, what if there were no thoughts at all
What if my mind was as blank as your face right now
What if I was just looking at you to memorize your smile.
To memorize the little creases at the corner of your eyes while you smiled.
To memorize the black strands of your overgrown hair adorning your forehead.
To take in the warm color of your skin.
To see your lips move as you talk.
To go past your spectacles to be able to guage the depth of your dark eyes.
Like a child, just admiring, the soaring airplane, in awe.
Like a bird, chirping its heart out not caring the world listening.
Like a piece of straw, floating on the vast ocean, not caring about reaching the shore.
What if, I tell you I look at you, wishing you knew that you are what courses through my mind, reflecting in my eyes, gushing through my veins, are you.
#rajkumari
*To the boy in that cafe*
You look at me, sensing my gaze, staring at you.
I avert my eyes, leaving you to wonder what was on my mind.
You try to think of all the possible things that the random girl staring at you could be thinking.
But, what if there were no thoughts at all
What if my mind was as blank as your face right now
What if I was just looking at you to memorize your smile.
To memorize the little creases at the corner of your eyes while you smiled.
To memorize the black strands of your overgrown hair adorning your forehead.
To take in the warm color of your skin.
To see your lips move as you talk.
To go past your spectacles to be able to guage the depth of your dark eyes.
Like a child, just admiring, the soaring airplane, in awe.
Like a bird, chirping its heart out not caring the world listening.
Like a piece of straw, floating on the vast ocean, not caring about reaching the shore.
What if, I tell you I look at you, wishing you knew that you are what courses through my mind, reflecting in my eyes, gushing through my veins, are you.
#rajkumari
Hopes are fading
Snow has frozen the rose
The warmth that I keep under the root
may go deep
as the winter grows
Back to the spring of Feb
Shining red-clad from head to toe;
my eyes went blank,
but I never fell down with leaves,
though I didn't count the rest
Summer was sweet;
still painted in red
Budding warmth;
brightened rose
What else could I wish for?
Wish I could dig deep,
at least up to six feet
Shivering heart; no clothes
Wish I could see again,
under the November rain,
the blooming rose
#review
Snow has frozen the rose
The warmth that I keep under the root
may go deep
as the winter grows
Back to the spring of Feb
Shining red-clad from head to toe;
my eyes went blank,
but I never fell down with leaves,
though I didn't count the rest
Summer was sweet;
still painted in red
Budding warmth;
brightened rose
What else could I wish for?
Wish I could dig deep,
at least up to six feet
Shivering heart; no clothes
Wish I could see again,
under the November rain,
the blooming rose
#review
A WILLED BURNING CANDLE .
Written by,
Sima Majhi
I'm a burning candle,
Which is ending,
Still, why is it hoping to burn for a little longer?
How good if I would be burn myself a little more and give myself a little more pain.
Why I can't do this?
Why I suffered from the past, yet
But still I have stand here like a
Old banyan tree.
I want to escape me from myself?
I want to burn not like a burning candle.
I want to gaze, Like a shooting star.
It's really weird until now,
when your absence freaks my tight, memories burn like candle,
pain remains like ashes,
and still love remains same.
Whenever I feel the fragrance of reality
I convinced myself
Now your absence is peace,
Now your absence is reassurance, and
Your absence is good feeling.
#sima
#review
#everyone
Written by,
Sima Majhi
I'm a burning candle,
Which is ending,
Still, why is it hoping to burn for a little longer?
How good if I would be burn myself a little more and give myself a little more pain.
Why I can't do this?
Why I suffered from the past, yet
But still I have stand here like a
Old banyan tree.
I want to escape me from myself?
I want to burn not like a burning candle.
I want to gaze, Like a shooting star.
It's really weird until now,
when your absence freaks my tight, memories burn like candle,
pain remains like ashes,
and still love remains same.
Whenever I feel the fragrance of reality
I convinced myself
Now your absence is peace,
Now your absence is reassurance, and
Your absence is good feeling.
#sima
#review
#everyone
Her wandering gaze running over my face
Her soothing fingers dancing on my neck
With the warmth of her lips and a bite of my flesh
she made my heart wild and took us far away
Though she was crowned as the queen of heaven
she gave up that world
to be Persephone of my Hell
#review
Her soothing fingers dancing on my neck
With the warmth of her lips and a bite of my flesh
she made my heart wild and took us far away
Though she was crowned as the queen of heaven
she gave up that world
to be Persephone of my Hell
#review
Paint your Pain
The thought of
You
Ignites a fire
Within.
The wounds you
Left
Evoke the fire
To write.
The words I
Write
Are the flames
Of anguish.
The passion in
My rhyme
Will not burn
The imprint
Your presence left.
Your memory
Dances a beautiful
Sad dance
With the flames.
It sparks
A love gone
An absent desired love
In my cold heart.
The warmth
Of this impossible
Desired passion
Keeps your essence
Alive
In every corner
Of my bleeding
Heart.
I scratch
The wounds with
Pen and bleed
To paint the pain
Of your
Memories.
The poetry keeps me nice
And warm.
©junaidwarrior
#poetry
#review
#everyone
#junaidwarrior
The thought of
You
Ignites a fire
Within.
The wounds you
Left
Evoke the fire
To write.
The words I
Write
Are the flames
Of anguish.
The passion in
My rhyme
Will not burn
The imprint
Your presence left.
Your memory
Dances a beautiful
Sad dance
With the flames.
It sparks
A love gone
An absent desired love
In my cold heart.
The warmth
Of this impossible
Desired passion
Keeps your essence
Alive
In every corner
Of my bleeding
Heart.
I scratch
The wounds with
Pen and bleed
To paint the pain
Of your
Memories.
The poetry keeps me nice
And warm.
©junaidwarrior
#poetry
#review
#everyone
#junaidwarrior
#everyone #review #poetry
*Just like that rose*
Like a rose, holding its petals close to the core, clings to the stem for it knows how cruel the world is.
Tending to its need they'll care, adore and praise.
Once the little bud starts opening up its petals to them, they'll rip it off the branch.
Placing it in a vase, they'll enjoy its fragrance.
Placing it in a bouquet, they'll impress their loved ones.
Placing it on a grave, they'll mourn the gone.
And then, leave it there, to wither away, on its own.
It tries to survive, it sends messages through its wilting petals.
Some pluck the petals away, one after another, deciding whom they love.
Some keep it in their book, and suffocate it to death.
Some crush the petals and make perfumes.
Some throw it away.
But, it never ceases to struggle until its last petal ceases to breathe.
Just like that rose, I will strive to hold on, to my will, letting you enjoy me, making you happy.
Just like that rose, I will always be there to comfort you.
Just like that rose, I will make you smile.
Just like that rose, I will shower you with my fragrance.
And just like that rose, I will live for you until my last petal falls off.
#rajkumari
*Just like that rose*
Like a rose, holding its petals close to the core, clings to the stem for it knows how cruel the world is.
Tending to its need they'll care, adore and praise.
Once the little bud starts opening up its petals to them, they'll rip it off the branch.
Placing it in a vase, they'll enjoy its fragrance.
Placing it in a bouquet, they'll impress their loved ones.
Placing it on a grave, they'll mourn the gone.
And then, leave it there, to wither away, on its own.
It tries to survive, it sends messages through its wilting petals.
Some pluck the petals away, one after another, deciding whom they love.
Some keep it in their book, and suffocate it to death.
Some crush the petals and make perfumes.
Some throw it away.
But, it never ceases to struggle until its last petal ceases to breathe.
Just like that rose, I will strive to hold on, to my will, letting you enjoy me, making you happy.
Just like that rose, I will always be there to comfort you.
Just like that rose, I will make you smile.
Just like that rose, I will shower you with my fragrance.
And just like that rose, I will live for you until my last petal falls off.
#rajkumari
Our love-bed was still warm
but,
our hearts became cold
The house you always wished for,
turned out to be a graveyard
of two starving ghosts....
#review
but,
our hearts became cold
The house you always wished for,
turned out to be a graveyard
of two starving ghosts....
#review
Your love
Is not
an item I can see
Your love
Is not
an aroma I can smell
Your love
Is not
a material I can touch
But to me
Your love
Feels more real
Than the butterfly I can see
To me
Your love
Feels more real
Than the perfume I can smell
To me
Your love
Feels more real
Than the feather I can touch
#review #everyone #meg
Is not
an item I can see
Your love
Is not
an aroma I can smell
Your love
Is not
a material I can touch
But to me
Your love
Feels more real
Than the butterfly I can see
To me
Your love
Feels more real
Than the perfume I can smell
To me
Your love
Feels more real
Than the feather I can touch
#review #everyone #meg
We met and held
each other's sorrow,
Promised to burn them,
You stayed quiet for a while,
When I was pouring myself,
We're ashes now, though
We still dance together
In waves of those sorrows
When wind blows,
In our favourite season.
#review
each other's sorrow,
Promised to burn them,
You stayed quiet for a while,
When I was pouring myself,
We're ashes now, though
We still dance together
In waves of those sorrows
When wind blows,
In our favourite season.
#review
#review #musing #everyone
I walked beside him looking at our feet match the steps. He put his arm around me pulling me closer and I slipped my hand around his waist.
We walked a while, maybe a mile with comfortable silences and warm words.
I woke up then, wishing to be woken up by him instead of a dream.
#rajkumari
I walked beside him looking at our feet match the steps. He put his arm around me pulling me closer and I slipped my hand around his waist.
We walked a while, maybe a mile with comfortable silences and warm words.
I woke up then, wishing to be woken up by him instead of a dream.
#rajkumari
#review #salonikulkarni
[Untitled]
And in his soft eyes
I saw the starry sparkling night.
Twinkling with a warm love
Wrapping me in his glow.
With his smile
He spoke a thousand words unsaid
His blond hair and blue eyes
Make me weaker in the knees
I want to be right beside him
Through everything, together
I can say I love him
I'll say it a million times
And it still won't capture
What my heart feels.
[Untitled]
And in his soft eyes
I saw the starry sparkling night.
Twinkling with a warm love
Wrapping me in his glow.
With his smile
He spoke a thousand words unsaid
His blond hair and blue eyes
Make me weaker in the knees
I want to be right beside him
Through everything, together
I can say I love him
I'll say it a million times
And it still won't capture
What my heart feels.
Persephone-1
Where would you take me to--
Beneath the dark Earth, or
Inside your dead heart!?
I'm not a prophet girl;
Just a playful meadow lover
Don't serve me an apple from Olympus;
Don't let me sit
on the crown of immortals,
for I'm the maiden-of-spring
Just hold me with love and
whisper the life of dignity
But I can't make my Mama cry,
Nor can I let our tale-- be a myth
Don't know where I belong--
Demeter's meadow, or
the death-throne.........
#review
Where would you take me to--
Beneath the dark Earth, or
Inside your dead heart!?
I'm not a prophet girl;
Just a playful meadow lover
Don't serve me an apple from Olympus;
Don't let me sit
on the crown of immortals,
for I'm the maiden-of-spring
Just hold me with love and
whisper the life of dignity
But I can't make my Mama cry,
Nor can I let our tale-- be a myth
Don't know where I belong--
Demeter's meadow, or
the death-throne.........
#review
#short_story
#kr
#review
#everyone
The Price is Paid
Part 2
Hell is here, knocking on the door.
Slide it open and hear it roar.
Brace yourselves, for it's loud and strong;
It's here to stay for very long.
The winter days in Forkale introduce lots of rains and savage winds. The fireplace in Koron's and Saron's house is crackling with fiery timbers, yet Saron is complaining about the cold and how harsh it's getting these days.
"The last winter felt much better," she says, rubbing her hands together. She sits in a cozy armchair about the hearth as Koron pours his darling a mug of hot milk, which he has purchased earlier in the day after he finished working on a car at the garage.
Everyone in the city is somber about the coolness of the winter this year; it's worse than the last.
Koron is a brilliant mechanic who loves his job, although his job contributes small to his pocket, and Saron is a housewife who takes care of the house. Housewives are uncommon in Forkale, but childless people are rare. They have been man and wife for almost four years now, their community knows them well, and they're struggling to become what the city expects of them. Saron wishes if they never lived in this city. She is a housewife who doesn't have a child in four years of marriage; in Forkale, it doesn't get any worse.
Their house has a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. The kitchen is part of the sitting room, and Koron is having a hard time, watching his wife freezing--even when she's sucking on the warmth of the flames.
"I know, I know," he says, caring as ever. "This mug will fix you up." He walks across the room, hands her a mug, and drags an armchair to sit beside her.
"This is getting worse," she says. Sips from her mug.
Gazing at the ripples of the fire, he lets out a helpless sigh. He doesn't know how to make it better for her, but tries to think of something. "Why don't you... why don't you warm yourself up all day tomorrow? And you can also--"
"I'm not talking about the cold, Koron," she says, "I'm talking about Thursday."
He thinks hard, but he has no idea what Thursday has got to do with anything. "What about Thursday, love?"
She drinks some more and turns to meet his eyes. "It's our anniversary. This is getting bad, Koron, we're trying and trying but we're hopeless." A trickle of tear springs and travels down her cheek. "I can't live like this anymore."
Neither can he. People at work gifts him with all kinds of hideous comments about his wife, about what she can't give--babies and she's "a lazy bastard who sleeps and eats all day." Fighting for her is his instinct, his second nature, but how can he fight a whole community for her. He is alone in the fight as much as she is.
"...and moving to another city is not a choice for us. Even if we want to, selling this stupid house won't give us a new start--other cities are expensive. And your job can only give so much." He sees her face and the tumult occurring there, but as much as he wants to give her hope in everything, he has nothing to say. He admits that she's right, that they're living in their own little hell, which no one bothers to drop by.
"...maybe... honey, I know you might not like this idea, but... just please say yes."
"I can't say yes to suicide," he jests.
She beams. "I love you." She reaches and kisses him.
"Talk to me. Do you have any plans, love?"
She takes his hand into hers and kisses it. She looks into his eyes. "Lolopi."
Looking away, he claims his hand back. "How can you even think that?"
She sets down her mug and kneels in front of him. "Look at me. Look at my eyes and tell me what you see." She forces his face to hers. "Just look."
#kr
#review
#everyone
The Price is Paid
Part 2
Hell is here, knocking on the door.
Slide it open and hear it roar.
Brace yourselves, for it's loud and strong;
It's here to stay for very long.
The winter days in Forkale introduce lots of rains and savage winds. The fireplace in Koron's and Saron's house is crackling with fiery timbers, yet Saron is complaining about the cold and how harsh it's getting these days.
"The last winter felt much better," she says, rubbing her hands together. She sits in a cozy armchair about the hearth as Koron pours his darling a mug of hot milk, which he has purchased earlier in the day after he finished working on a car at the garage.
Everyone in the city is somber about the coolness of the winter this year; it's worse than the last.
Koron is a brilliant mechanic who loves his job, although his job contributes small to his pocket, and Saron is a housewife who takes care of the house. Housewives are uncommon in Forkale, but childless people are rare. They have been man and wife for almost four years now, their community knows them well, and they're struggling to become what the city expects of them. Saron wishes if they never lived in this city. She is a housewife who doesn't have a child in four years of marriage; in Forkale, it doesn't get any worse.
Their house has a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. The kitchen is part of the sitting room, and Koron is having a hard time, watching his wife freezing--even when she's sucking on the warmth of the flames.
"I know, I know," he says, caring as ever. "This mug will fix you up." He walks across the room, hands her a mug, and drags an armchair to sit beside her.
"This is getting worse," she says. Sips from her mug.
Gazing at the ripples of the fire, he lets out a helpless sigh. He doesn't know how to make it better for her, but tries to think of something. "Why don't you... why don't you warm yourself up all day tomorrow? And you can also--"
"I'm not talking about the cold, Koron," she says, "I'm talking about Thursday."
He thinks hard, but he has no idea what Thursday has got to do with anything. "What about Thursday, love?"
She drinks some more and turns to meet his eyes. "It's our anniversary. This is getting bad, Koron, we're trying and trying but we're hopeless." A trickle of tear springs and travels down her cheek. "I can't live like this anymore."
Neither can he. People at work gifts him with all kinds of hideous comments about his wife, about what she can't give--babies and she's "a lazy bastard who sleeps and eats all day." Fighting for her is his instinct, his second nature, but how can he fight a whole community for her. He is alone in the fight as much as she is.
"...and moving to another city is not a choice for us. Even if we want to, selling this stupid house won't give us a new start--other cities are expensive. And your job can only give so much." He sees her face and the tumult occurring there, but as much as he wants to give her hope in everything, he has nothing to say. He admits that she's right, that they're living in their own little hell, which no one bothers to drop by.
"...maybe... honey, I know you might not like this idea, but... just please say yes."
"I can't say yes to suicide," he jests.
She beams. "I love you." She reaches and kisses him.
"Talk to me. Do you have any plans, love?"
She takes his hand into hers and kisses it. She looks into his eyes. "Lolopi."
Looking away, he claims his hand back. "How can you even think that?"
She sets down her mug and kneels in front of him. "Look at me. Look at my eyes and tell me what you see." She forces his face to hers. "Just look."
Don't go
I really want this to happen ,
I want to give you everything i have promised you ,
I know everything is going wrong ,
I know today life is not like we wished it to be ,
I know you are angry ,
I don't want you to leave , give me a chance to tell you how much you mean to me , I know we can fight this bad days together to earn the beautiful days of our life which we dreamed of ,
Yes i am selfish when it comes to you ,
Yes i am crazy when i see you ,
You are the only person seeing whom I smile even on my worst days ,
I can't promise that i would be perfect , i will not make mistakes , i will not tease you , but i can promise you that i will hold your hand forever , yes it is you whom i love the most in life ❤️
#review
I really want this to happen ,
I want to give you everything i have promised you ,
I know everything is going wrong ,
I know today life is not like we wished it to be ,
I know you are angry ,
I don't want you to leave , give me a chance to tell you how much you mean to me , I know we can fight this bad days together to earn the beautiful days of our life which we dreamed of ,
Yes i am selfish when it comes to you ,
Yes i am crazy when i see you ,
You are the only person seeing whom I smile even on my worst days ,
I can't promise that i would be perfect , i will not make mistakes , i will not tease you , but i can promise you that i will hold your hand forever , yes it is you whom i love the most in life ❤️
#review
#everyone #review #poetry
I'll live
Sometimes it feels like my world is falling apart and will collapse on me, crushing me with every breath I leave. So I try holding my breath hoping to hold onto life for a little longer.
But, for what?
The world is already coming down.
What do I do holding onto life?
Why don't I just give up the control knowing that giving up control does not necessarily mean I lose but, be free. Not of life but the responsibilities that life burdened me with.
I know I would still live on even after I die. My remains would still be there because somebody's new world would flourish on the ashes of mine.
So I'll live.
In the fragrance of flowers, in the color of leaves, in the gush of wind, in the grains of sand, in the drops of rain, in the flakes of snow.
I'll live.
In the laughter of a child, in the tears of a bride, in the beads of an athlete's sweat, in the melody of someone's guitar.
I'll live.
In an army man's gun.
In the baker's fresh bun.
In a comedian's lame pun.
In a clown having fun.
I'll live.
In somebody's first kiss and the last.
In the present and the past.
In the books and the art.
In now and then.
In paper and pen.
I'll live.
Forever and never.
I'll live.
#rajkumari
I'll live
Sometimes it feels like my world is falling apart and will collapse on me, crushing me with every breath I leave. So I try holding my breath hoping to hold onto life for a little longer.
But, for what?
The world is already coming down.
What do I do holding onto life?
Why don't I just give up the control knowing that giving up control does not necessarily mean I lose but, be free. Not of life but the responsibilities that life burdened me with.
I know I would still live on even after I die. My remains would still be there because somebody's new world would flourish on the ashes of mine.
So I'll live.
In the fragrance of flowers, in the color of leaves, in the gush of wind, in the grains of sand, in the drops of rain, in the flakes of snow.
I'll live.
In the laughter of a child, in the tears of a bride, in the beads of an athlete's sweat, in the melody of someone's guitar.
I'll live.
In an army man's gun.
In the baker's fresh bun.
In a comedian's lame pun.
In a clown having fun.
I'll live.
In somebody's first kiss and the last.
In the present and the past.
In the books and the art.
In now and then.
In paper and pen.
I'll live.
Forever and never.
I'll live.
#rajkumari
High on each other's eyes;
no touch, no words,
yet talking like
no one else can
Cloud of numbness over the head
going heavier
with every sip of
each other's pain
No one to care at all;
no one to take them home
Can't walk without the blessing
of the crowd,
for they might fall down
like
Bonnie and Clyde
#review
no touch, no words,
yet talking like
no one else can
Cloud of numbness over the head
going heavier
with every sip of
each other's pain
No one to care at all;
no one to take them home
Can't walk without the blessing
of the crowd,
for they might fall down
like
Bonnie and Clyde
#review
#review #everyone
Old souls
Sitting at the far end of that cafe I glanced around finding nobody but the empty chairs.
Twenty four chairs and twelve tables I counted. All empty. I found it funny how each table could only sit two people.
Don't groups of friends visit cafes anymore or had this cafe become a spot for people like me?
People like me, who sit alone at their favourite table sipping hot chocolate engrossed in a book.
Who enjoy the peace and calm of being alone.
Who want to shut out the world.
Who want to write their thoughts out.
Who want to enjoy their own company.
Who don't feel at home in their own home.
Who can't make friends because they're different.
They're different for they enjoy one to one conversations.
For they love to sit and talk for three hours straight.
For they read as much as they can and discuss what they read later.
For they love to recite poems and not filmy item numbers.
For they love the soft instrumental music and not rock or pop or jazz.
For they love to paint fantasies.
For they love to get to know you thoroughly and be your friend and not just an accompany you to the mall acquaintance.
The sound of a bell broke me from my spell and I looked up at the door to find a group of nine friends come in.
The old man behind the counter smiled like he hadn't seen such sight in years.
Placing their orders they turned to the tables and froze for a moment before two of them quickly joined four of the tables together and they all sat around them, giggling.
They talked, made jokes, teased each other, laughed and ate to their hearts content.
I couldn't help but notice how even the teasing and jokes emitted the vibes of absolute love that they all had for each other.
I noticed not one of them had taken out their cell phones. That made me smile.
They went away after a while.
Clearing the tables, the old man came to sit across me and smiled at me. He said, " You, young lady, and them, are the same you know that?
You all are ... "
" Old souls " I completed his sentence.
"Old souls of the new generation " he smiled going back to his counter leaving those four tables together as they were.
#rajkumari
Old souls
Sitting at the far end of that cafe I glanced around finding nobody but the empty chairs.
Twenty four chairs and twelve tables I counted. All empty. I found it funny how each table could only sit two people.
Don't groups of friends visit cafes anymore or had this cafe become a spot for people like me?
People like me, who sit alone at their favourite table sipping hot chocolate engrossed in a book.
Who enjoy the peace and calm of being alone.
Who want to shut out the world.
Who want to write their thoughts out.
Who want to enjoy their own company.
Who don't feel at home in their own home.
Who can't make friends because they're different.
They're different for they enjoy one to one conversations.
For they love to sit and talk for three hours straight.
For they read as much as they can and discuss what they read later.
For they love to recite poems and not filmy item numbers.
For they love the soft instrumental music and not rock or pop or jazz.
For they love to paint fantasies.
For they love to get to know you thoroughly and be your friend and not just an accompany you to the mall acquaintance.
The sound of a bell broke me from my spell and I looked up at the door to find a group of nine friends come in.
The old man behind the counter smiled like he hadn't seen such sight in years.
Placing their orders they turned to the tables and froze for a moment before two of them quickly joined four of the tables together and they all sat around them, giggling.
They talked, made jokes, teased each other, laughed and ate to their hearts content.
I couldn't help but notice how even the teasing and jokes emitted the vibes of absolute love that they all had for each other.
I noticed not one of them had taken out their cell phones. That made me smile.
They went away after a while.
Clearing the tables, the old man came to sit across me and smiled at me. He said, " You, young lady, and them, are the same you know that?
You all are ... "
" Old souls " I completed his sentence.
"Old souls of the new generation " he smiled going back to his counter leaving those four tables together as they were.
#rajkumari
Let the firmament be colorless
don't paint it with
the rainbow of Nirvana
or with the saffron of Moksha
Whether it is last or forever,
don't let it be green as well
We are all fallen from nowhere,
you can't claim;
you can't trace
Let's build ourselves up
as we're the dust of stars
Let's light up the sky
by singing a common prayer
#review
don't paint it with
the rainbow of Nirvana
or with the saffron of Moksha
Whether it is last or forever,
don't let it be green as well
We are all fallen from nowhere,
you can't claim;
you can't trace
Let's build ourselves up
as we're the dust of stars
Let's light up the sky
by singing a common prayer
#review
Broken dream.
What happens if the dream is broken?
Maybe it is severed to see the veracity.
Perhaps it was a twisted bird that came back in the crowd of the evening.
Like the death penalty is a born that is dead again.
It was a black cloud which hid after the rains.
As the peacock became gloomy after the rain.
#sima
#review
What happens if the dream is broken?
Maybe it is severed to see the veracity.
Perhaps it was a twisted bird that came back in the crowd of the evening.
Like the death penalty is a born that is dead again.
It was a black cloud which hid after the rains.
As the peacock became gloomy after the rain.
#sima
#review
writer block
I pull my heart out
Putting my rest of the feelings on pause
With hope, I close my eyes
A lesson for my "protesting Mind"
My ears on the ticktock
as I cut the supply of emotions
The Cruel Fate
it has to taste
I make it suffer
until it begs and ends the protest
#review
I pull my heart out
Putting my rest of the feelings on pause
With hope, I close my eyes
A lesson for my "protesting Mind"
My ears on the ticktock
as I cut the supply of emotions
The Cruel Fate
it has to taste
I make it suffer
until it begs and ends the protest
#review