An occult feeling comes.
You measure the weight of words.
And stand taller than victory,
To remain troubled, I
suffer. Want to read your writing
in my hands. You want to die and live.
Don't need any kindness.
My lovebirds are in cages making
lot of noises. Game of love will never be over.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: September 28th, 2021 19:33
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.