The few lost pieces,
And the little broken hearts,
With their lethal cyclones,
And trembling parts,
Ebb and flow like the tides that rise.
Once anew, thence old,
I hate to pay for the price,
Once the moon, now against the boon.
YOU ARE READING
Warts For All
PoetryThis book contains poetries mostly related to tragedy, which I have written in the most random times, when penning down poetries would possibly be the last thing one would think of. So I never thought of letting those out to the world. Nonetheless...
