A spitlled life


A spitlled life

This ain't a ballad,aint a poem
Aint the story of some noble lovestruck in Rome
It is the feeling of the young voice
Living deadly was her only choice
Burnt in the funeral pyre
‘er death was humanities utmost desire
Though in worst of her times
She retorted me with best of her smiles
I remember how I used to hug her tight
Her love boosted me up perpetually, be it the devils night
She spellbound me -N- the delicate lullabies she sang
Oh! How enchantingly the Ddd...Doorbell of my personality she rang
How early did me grew young
How early did she grow old
All ‘er dreams ‘er emotions ‘er ambitions for me she sold
How I wish could give her clay back
Yet again to be mould.

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