~•~
Of poetries,
Of stories
Of novels,
I find different beliefs,
Written with sheer dismissal,
Of the reality,
We face,
Of white sepulchre,
And threats.
We learn the deceit,
We feed on hate,
We abandon love,
As we grow to taste,
The bitterness of obscene reality,
The liquorice,
Tasting life poison so sweet,
That we learn to imagine,
The worthiness of being unworthy.
We hate affectioners,
We love intruders,
As we drown into the abyss of lust,
Forever was just a word used then,
Now we just fall in a bottomless dark abyss
Of stress.
We are left of now where
As we are stripped off of our innocence,
Leaving us naked
For the society to see,
Our flaws,
And feed on our weaknesses.
We claw,
We bite,
We take long strides,
To live past our lives,
Where there was only darkness's reign.
With our troubled self,
Where only demons reigned;
We try to live past those,
But too foolish for us to even think,
That in a blink,
The time would lapse,
And take us to an age,
Where the world has collapsed
To a thousand splendid pieces,
Of thoughts,
That once haunted us,
Now has turned in dust,
Which pelted down the slippery sky.
Now the cosmos burst,
And the nebula shattered into globules,
Of faded memory,
Of us,
Of who we used to be.
~•~
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✔ __________________________________...
