~•~
Here we lay,
Amongst the vivid reality that slays,
With our souls withering away into nothingness,
The harsh realism had crushed us,
It has trodden our innocence,
Smithing our dignity away.
The lapse of time,
And the moulding days of languish,
Had us ailing to frailness.
We have waited,
And survived until,
Painting lives of splendour,
With brushes made out of our paracosms,
And color out of our hearts.
We have entailed the tenebrous canvas
Into intrigues of bland artifice.
The pulchritude of goodness laced with malice,
Had let the world shatter,
To million pieces unknown,
As the void truth of spuriousness was let unseen.
None remained,
To take in our pained exclamation,
For extreme corruption,
That has broken us down,
Into pieces of fragmented flower.
As we fell onto the whizzing wind
That blew us far away.
No more to watch,
No more to ponder,
No more of wonder,
Our hearts have been laid,
Trodden and slayed,
So no more of the blunder,
As the rays of enlightenment,
Has pierced our dark soul
Taking away our sins.
~•~
YOU ARE READING
Serenade✔
Poetry"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. " ~Oscar Wilde __________________________________ ✔You stay under the carpet of my room, Dusting the corners of my soul✔ __________________________________...
