I sat there in the lavender field, surrounded by those sheen
pale-magenta blossoms.
Although the lavender hues reminded me of my melancholy.
I couldn't help imagining the surrounding pallidity as the demons of my yearning, trying to grasp me.
But I wasn't aware that it's utterly alright to feel wretched at times.
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Note
Last poem of this crappy book.
YOU ARE READING
delirium
Poetry[POETRY - lower case intended] ephemeral emotions swirling in form of delicate words.
