When I begin to do something
The memories of past disturb me
Which leds to a challenge
And also a mental fight within me
Those past sights
And the darkness' height
Repentance of my dids
Persecute me
I struggle with the past,
And it defeats me, at last.
In the imaginary battlefield,
I'm drowned,
In the Haistorm of dust.
The moon burns in fire,
Giving out the warmth of desire.
Conspiracy of liar.
The magma of anger,
Turns the battlefield into fire.
These all kills the lonely man,
who is drowned in the heap of sand.
The sand of fragmented past.
I wish I could do something
I wish I could manage my brain
I wish I could throw my darker past
In a crushed-in drain
YOU ARE READING
Wanderer
PoetryHey readers It's my first work with poetry. However, I write poetry just to pass time as my passion or you can say hobby. I thought I can make a collection of my poems. So I tried it. Thanks If you like my poems put a like and follow me. The poet...
