Mystic roads, I once traveled,
It possessed timeless blues,
nobody could objectify meaningless clues,
But today, all the notions are stolen,
Oceans are dry, leaves have fallen and wounds have swollen.
Me? Could have caused destruction of morals,
Being fool as midnight mirage, even moon has quarrels.
Summoned slaughter of crippled but nomad run,
Pages are burnt, bookmarks were thrown,
Leaving all the fields behind, colorless butterfly rode blind dun.
Day come might dig deep,
Might nourish contrast of what follows.
Plea to shine crystals, conversation at dusk,
Sun at rise, believing it was crooked dream, might ignore verse.
YOU ARE READING
Spontaneous Overflow
Poetrychildish attempt to gather random analogies to form nothing. just like life, It will not mean but just be. It is vague but it isn't hard. It is simple, It is poetry.
