Wounded as I wanted to heal,
Clouded as I wanted to feel,
Check again are they starting to kneel?
Or I'm just distracted didn't know which is real.
A sudden snap of sensibility,
Knocked me out of my mind's sorcery,
Familiar voices consume me with irony,
It's my own voice and my worst enemy.
Do I have my tomorrow or I'm at the end of the train?
All of this thoughts will be forever retained,
These words are out but my body were chained,
Carry on this way and things will not gonna change.
One can't told the river to flow back up to the hill,
One can't told the rain to rise back up to the sky,
Some things are much better to let it be as it will,
Sit along with my pillar maybe it will change into a butterfly.
It's not going to be sweet,
It's not going to be smooth,
It's not always indiscreet,
It's not always a bitter truth.
A bard with a song,
An adventurer with a dream,
A mortal with his wrong,
And just a servant to The Supreme.
YOU ARE READING
42
PoetryI will keep writing until the chapter succeeds 41 and precedes 43. P/S : I do not own any of the illustration in this writings
