"You'll find beauty within"
Let it consume my eye sockets and drain the liquids of my brain. Because the wait is long and anxiety disposes patience.
I am not alive.
Merely a skeptical illusion of my soul case is presented in front of me. But I shattered the glass that showed my face
"This... Your fault.
Isn't it? You..."
I say to the shattered glass as one still shows who I am
What I am.
Isn't it odd when a women despise her beauty and denies her eloquence. I find it as one of the mysteries that we are yet to encounter but never to solve.
YOU ARE READING
Hidden Mysteries
PoeziePoetry is a fine way to tell you exactly who I am. And yet, you'd still be clueless. But of course, prove me wrong.
