Monday, December 4th
Dear diary,
Fault: Me or them?
Am I a clay?
Who can improvise in your way,
A game or a toy?
Who turns your boredom to joy
Am I a joke?
To be made fun of,
Or a clown?
At which everyone laugh
Am I a puppet?
Dancing on your digits,
Or the weather?
Changing in minutes.
Encircled with fault finding folks,
Will I survive or get choked?prachi
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Pages
PoesiaEveryone drains their day in a diary so do I. But I even love to express my thoughts in the form of poetry, so how it would be if both are combined...?