Everyone loves the snow,
If only they'd known,
How painful is to the man,
At the top,
To come down..
Cold winter,
Calls all our ups down,
And give some taste to the moan,
And makes some sense to a none.
The white glows,
Makes it harder to blow,
I have seen it once upside down,
-The old man making his way to the sun-,
A lot to carry with his tiny hands,
I shouted on him to leave some,
Unnecessary things left will make him stand.
I wanted to be kind,
But i had my own things in hands,
And i couldn't leave them behind.
Picture credit to unknown
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Surviving
PoetryShe wanted to survive so she created art. It's not a roman but kind of a short essay. It's about silence and noise, about introverts being forced to extroversion, about the little secret of an introvert. It's simply about a life among billions. All...
