Sometimes you overthink
in the evening. The night has the
receding line of purple love.
Open the light. How
many lives you have? Your life is being
written, but you were not the author.
Your slanted brown lives
always reflect a broken world,where
words wander to find the page of heart.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 17th, 2021 19:24
- Category: Nature
- Views: 21
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.