I call it fancy letters dancing
on my little bonafide eyes-the poem
and it calls me the bohemian
who is seeking the purity in each sight,
we sing the farewell song together
he cry and then me, pitch matches no matter, how high!
It allows me to dwell into deep feelings
holding my back, tap, it's time to sleep!
I let him to paddle near the solitude where love meets Oblivion
and soft pieces of grudge moulds into platinum
when there was a cold war in rages
he held me the strongest weapon in outrageous
people called it trigger of bravery
he said "it is just a little heap of faith",
it will keep you away from slavery
[Sometimes things are just between
papers and the pen, poems and the poets,
love and the lovers, sea and the deepers]
Vikas.writes
YOU ARE READING
pass by thoughts
Puisithis book is a collection of my pass by thoughts, no heartbreaks, no traumas, no self mad sad imaginations but just facts with rhymes.
