Cafuné is your definition-
To the pains that I dealt,
Soothing was your definition,
Scarred inside out is how I felt.
Heat rising above the sheets-
Your desires- my defeat.
A walk around the corner, limping,
Your gaze marked on the scattered innocence of my soul,
Let me run,
Don't come back for me,
If begging would've worked,
I've already been on my knees for so long.
Isn't this world enough a burden my liege?
Your body at the zenith, your body at the nadir, Depriving me of a childhood, depriving me of an adulthood.
The Lost Traveller spits on the path of demons,
This world is to give-
not scars, but flowers of love,
The garden of life is being plucked of its innocence,
Water it again,
Not with tears, but with love.
(Sarmad.N)
YOU ARE READING
Soul Stories
PoetryHere is a collection of my poems. They come from the soul. Try to feel what is trying to be conveyed. Peace.
