I wish I wrote the way I thought,
The way I write isn't the way I think.
When I am lost in my thoughts there is a totally different world besides the sea.
A world where the flowers are extracted to make colours of the rainbow,
It's where the sun rays are made from the colour of the honey bee's wings,
The trimmed feathers of the birds are replaced with synthetic like sheets of clouds.
Droplets of rain are made from the angel's tears
The blood of people is blue, not red... It's more like frozen water
Hence, ice .
It's not a world that you can expect to exist
But a world that you can let exist in your dream.
YOU ARE READING
Rymth of the wind
PoetryRymth of wind is a fictional poetry book. Unsaid words and thoughts bleeds into a blend of words called poetry. "All that is worthy does not glimmer, the words are played like a piano with shimmer and this collection of poetry is a glorious mess of...
