I let it go, sometimes
my unborn poem―
listening to my
wilderness inside.
Spreads the pain in
every cell. I welcome
the poison proffered to me.
Life becomes a message to me
of no return. You
can only move forward, towards
the edge―
joining the family.
A forest grows in―
you, when you fail to
curtsy the black verses
of white days.
There were any choices?
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 25th, 2019 19:03
- Category: Nature
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
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