A detainee of own thoughts,
Prison of own body;
Fears are the coats,
The war of self-rivalry.
He shouted at the middle of the night,
Eyes glistened a familiar fright;
Worry splits in his mind,
Oh poor boy, what he does to feel unkind.
Tears flowed down on his cheeks,
Let's count one upto six,
On the 7th he wiped his tears;
8th to 10th, he fast asleep thinking that no one cares.
-Marxx Archer
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MAP #1: I Wrote This Under The Tree
PoetryMARXX ARCHER POETRY(MAP) #1 LANGUAGE: ENGLISH GENRE: LITERATURE(LITERARY PIECES), ROMANCE POETRY, TRAGIC POETRY, SPOKEN POETRY, INSPIRATIONAL AND MOTIVATIONAL POETRY, AND SHAKESEARIAN SONNETS STARTED: AUGUST 31, 2021 PUBLISHED: OCTOBER 12, 2021 RESU...
