In a lonely shack
Deserted from life
Lives the like of a shaken being
In tattered attire
Existing lone in his peasant apartment
Where all colours are drained
In his eyes lay unforgiving regrets
Crossed by crude roads
His numbered age are laid wasted
In unfruitful chants of youthful exuberance
When he had the strength of a lion
But fed from the plates of a badger
On his weakened skull
The little strands of sickly hair
In dirty attired
Laid in lazy lines
Taunting his bookless libraries
In clear misery
He recalled his rodent ridden notes
Where he could have marked the silver line
But lost to his ignorant mind
A walking disgrace
To white hairs and age
He lives in a beggar's troth
Inclined to his own mess.
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A.U
Please don't be a silent reader, read and vote and don't forget to comment so I'll know how to serve you better. Thanks, love y'all.
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Dear Little Dipper
PoesíaMy book of thoughts, drawn from that side of the mind This is actually where I feel most free to express my self and my pent up emotions, just like a reflection of my mind and what goes on in my mind
