Pressure to please myself,
That there must be something in the weather.
Every day it's getting colder.
Lately it was hot, but then I shivered.
Brisk winter weather, cold in the summer, perpetual bleakness, blinded by the clear ice of delusion.
When chunks of ice fell from the sky, I caught
So it left a cut that always bled-every piece that passed through my skin.
Snowflakes, summer cold
How long will winter last? A bleak weather, and you're not here,
Snow at the row of flowers in a dry land, white, brown, bitter, dust in the sand,
Flake in my flank.
YOU ARE READING
The Amorist's Magnum Opus (A Poem Collection)
PoetryDepending on the path that we walk through and the way we understand every single step that we take on it. There are various ways that we give meaning and deal with love and life. Consequently, it shows that the odyssey of experience is obviously no...
