3:40 am


Ain't getting the aroma of life?
You're low and dissolved by time
and you're thinking of that existence
who doesn't even get your aroma.
Time will freak you out more
but, the probability will be decreasing.
Becoming his bad graces?
Pack up and move from that boundary.
Your prominent eyes will be no longer
hypnotizing those deep set eyes
and you can no longer go for vies.
Leaving for the ocean of sorrow.
you can no more hold yourself up for his spites.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem