The mirror didn't seem the way it once appealed,
And a gentle yet passionate raving knocked her doors.
Maybe, she searched for hints but didn't even get any close.
Her smudged eyeliner at the end of the day-
Is what she is left with, but who cares?
Perhaps she effortlessly hunted for that inimitable inner self-
Or the place where the inner peace with her humor united-
And the light of hope instantly prevailed.
He didn't hurt no, but his leftovers did:
Her cramps didn't need painkillers to soothe everytime she had to bleed.
Indulgences. It's where her indulgences made a living-
She regularly met the faces she'd never seen:
Or hated some to be too true;
Maybe the subway rails was that passageway where she loved to chase her blues.
Inspirations that struck and blew me away in a blink;
She stood behind waititng on the llone platform rink.
Her eyeglasses held her tears back,
That shielded the truth and lies in her manifestations.
She felt unheard amidst the commotion of the station.
Even if the rain hits the window panels on the coziest days;
The uninterrupted intimacy between the rails and the un-uniting tracks stays relentless.
~Life in the subway rails
YOU ARE READING
An Aurora over the Skyline
PoetryPoetries soothe better than anything: and how tempting and ecstatic does your heart feel to read quotes that you could relate to? And, what about self-development, the verses that give you a sense of confidence and an essence of bliss in the stresse...
