Once again, the moon arises from its slumber,
And the day is at its eleventh hour,
Some obstinate people exhibit their defiance,
By barring the most sacred taboo,
Breaking the stillness of the night with an uproarious resonance,
And awakening her.
The feminine deity with fragile beauty,
Her beauty's reflection a lilting, mellifluous voice of a nightingale,
She appears with the softest tune,
Enthralling and lulling the active, recalcitrants to their required slumber.
But they continue to sleep on and on in their beds,
With her sweet lullaby entrenched in their heads,
Not letting them see the light of day,
And ensnaring them in deep regret and empty, assailable dormancy.
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In My Feelings//Watty's 2019//Poetry
Elixir darker than blood penned on porcelain coloured parchment the reflections of my reckonings, caged transgressions and feelings. -Z. Greatest Achievements- #10 in poetry. #1 in poet. #1 in poetrycollection. #1 in poesia. #2 in nonfiction. ...