Hey, are you okay?
I am here waiting all day
Don't be bothered, I'm fine
How could I ever afford your time?
A glimpse of you through the window-pane
I see that you've been immersed these days.
I'm just here, covered up in haze
Would you want me to stay?
A mere living thing like me,
Does not know how to plea
But I guess it's like this
Will my life lead to an abyss?
YOU ARE READING
Syllogés
PoetrySyllogés, a Greek word for collection. This is a collection of thoughts and the author's spur-of-the-moment.
