Young blood running through veins
couldn't prevent the cold feet,
The mind tremble everytime
life asks to jump over a huge hurdle
But the frail pair of feet
worship the hurdle,
It is tired of these hurdles,
Everytime they jump,
life provides with another one.
The living is now survival,
Every inch of the body gives up
And pessimism drives the soul.
Hundreds of people,
hundreds of opinions,
compiled in stocks
But no one knows the real misery.
These sunken eyes hide the causes
Covering them up
with layers of excuses
Yet the real ones are concealed.
Each word this mouth utters
Feels like waste
And locks the words with these lips.
It drank all the flesh,
Breaks through optimism,
With its huge fangs,
Gulps sip by sip,
To test tolerance
Towards its injustice
And leaves the survival to
the doors of hell.
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The burning rose (Completed)
PoésieA book of poems Not related to rose. Except one of them. 18 poems which you may or may not relate to. I hope you like it. Pls show some love if you did like them, it would make my day.✌ #thecosmicawards2018
