I lash out , I run away
I wander aimless ,not finding way
I look around
In this and that,
Over here and there ,
In you and me, in them and her ,
I seek advice ,
Tryna fit in the picture I don't belong
Mending myself in the not my mould
When failing the efforts to fix up a mess
I imagine my life as a game of chess
Then again no character would fit me in
At last I'm tired and sit down to pray
Peek upon the window of self to find it all sorted away
I was born to be a cut out
In a field of lavenders
A lemon healthy and stout .....
Ashlesha Dubey
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOU ARE READING
Trembling Hands Wet Canvas
PoetryWounds heal but scars remain , Time passes fast , what goes slow is pain. Sailing in sea alone in the boat , Sound to the agony , in the words coat Dig in.... And you won't regret !
