Yeah, it's not love, shan't one could hope if it'd be.
But why all of a sudden this hope brings
The terrible sight of what already took place.
Yeah, it's not relevant to have the repetition
Throughout the life.
But why the glimpse of the contemplated thought
Of the calamity?
Yeah, might be possible the shadow
Never stopped following what had gone.
But there seemed no sign of forthcoming scenarios.
Should one expect the different outcomes
That can shatter the delusion of old repetition?
Yeah, mind made it happen,
But could one ignore what standing at front?
So why to show hopefulness to the hopeless one
When optimistic days of life
Had shown themselves as a pathetic delusion?
Yeah, it's not love, shan't one still hope for it?
YOU ARE READING
Tales Of Hopeless Romantics: Imperfect Poetic Journey Of Love And Life
Poetry"My love was as cruel as my nightmares, and it was as beautiful as my daydream, which never dare to turn itself into reality, neither did it ever ended like a daydream, the agony kept hanging me like that of half hope, the hope kept hanging me like...
