Well played the childhood,
Got blessings from everyone,
And cries for none ,
A swing of childishness in the garden,
And a sleep of fun.
Stepping into the tears,
Years full of confusions and mood swings,
Real ones became less and others vicious,
Got a fury of homeworks and growing wings,
And in dark, a sleep fictious. ( Sleep of fiction)
Just passed the teenhood,
Now the earlier years of maturity,
Real ones became a few, so as the blessings,
A race of edgeouts and intense dreams,
Nights becomes more darker and sleep of breakdowns.
-M
YOU ARE READING
Redemption Of Survival
PoetryThe " Redemption Of Survival " contains some poems written by Me. Do ignore my grammer mistakes
