The storm destroyed the crops,
Which grew in my mind,
It always pops,
Just like never leaving it's true kind.
It was just my birthday,
Full of positive thoughts which I saw,
Yet it is blur, the gateway,
From where the spot was able to saw.
Jumbled as I am, a lot,
Something which I can't describe,
Yet it feels hard a lot,
As if it is a thing which I can never subscribe.
My mental peace is lost,
As if it can never return,
Even I can't value it's cost,
Because there was not any turn.
It is okay describing like this, where there is a lot to tell yet you can't find solace, even after describing it to your comfort zones?
YOU ARE READING
Poetry book
PoetryPoetry based on my interests and imaginations. Feelings are obvious.
