Absolutely zilch.
Sometimes you feel-
nothing moves.
Coming out of
remorse, there was no
confronting power-
to reason. Even
time freezes in your pen,
ink evaporates.
The blues, become
a sacred cove, where
a lake would take birth.
And a speaking
pain will embrace your
sinking boat.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 31st, 2018 19:15
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
Offline)
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