~•~
This is my mind,
The abode of thoughts,
Here access of feelings are quiet easy,
One could stretch out,
To read the string of memories,
But let me warn you,
It may cause you harm,
Since there are memories quite bitter,
And those of blithe.
There are spaces,
You may find void,
Where dust covers.
But you may find those,
Empty cases lying still to be filled,
With memories of tenebrous visage.
~•~
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✔ __________________________________...
