Hey guys , so this is literally a poem about my inability to write one.
Its was originally a spoken word.
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Even though a thousand lettered flame flares up in my head,
In the face of the tears and blood droplets shed,
Am unable to translate the feelings it narrates.
A constellation of twaddle this paper displays.
Its as if the windows of my soul are shrouded in dead white .
My worthless self emanates an oblivion it cannot fight.
Well Alright !
If this is all that is left of me, then I'll let the worlds take note.
The sea is silent before the storm,
My life is a song with its melody lost long.
Can't tell apart the right and wrong ;
Confusion
unfolding on and on .
Its a daily maze ,
the turns taunt with the rage of a monster
impossible to conquer.
YOU ARE READING
Tautegorical Tales
PoesíaEveryone goes through life feeling certain things they cannot describe but in poetry. Here are a few of my humble attempts to capture them on paper.
