A world of white,
My brushes will fight,
Any color I chose,
So many new hues,
Walls of white paper,
And you'll never escape.
A galaxy of ink,
And no way to think.
Because, now you see,
This land belongs to me.
It's all in my mind,
I create things that bind,
In my land of art,
I rule a broken heart.
YOU ARE READING
Alatus
PoesieDo you know what 'Alatus' means? Winged. Wings to fly away from reality, wings to sweep stars into my life, wings to hold my dear ones close. My poems make me winged. Every word, every line. They're packed with my imagination. And now, I'd like to p...
