What's left?
Fragile hearts,
What is there to journey for?
A soft spot,
for the hard place,
Keeps the flame ablaze,
Turning back,
Towards the salt less city,
Is no option,
A reflection of its shadow is what's vividly visible ,
For nothing is bequeathed to thee,
Now a lone self you are left,
A life of solitude is what the world brings forth,
Fathom on the past lives,
For the present shall only last as long it deems.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
