The war will just begin to attack when I have slept,
Still, the hate, pain, miseries, sadness, guilt passed are all mixed clearly in dreams.
I was the one who manipulated my troubles,
Though I did not expect that during my resting hour,
It will dangerously destroy my inner peace to start tomorrow.
A morning rise and tears are well dried,
The light pricked my sight enough for the river that had been flowed through.
It's a new day, new war to fight with,
Will set new dawn of hopes and colors.
YOU ARE READING
Pick Pinned
Poetrythese are my random poems about everything that were made of impossible diamonds and soft gems resembled as a realness of my poetic cloned emotions. whenever i'm busy handling my deep dive under the sea filled with stars and stripped of happiness a...
