~•~
Just the feverish cries,
Emanates from the soul,
A soulful whimper
Whispering out of the chapped lips,
The heart not just more to be hurt,
The pain subsiding like leaves amidst rain,
For the flaws and scars tainted upon,
Just dont have the monopoly upon love,
And all they do is just shape us
In the sculpture we are now,
But the inside, not as beautiful as out.
Miseries and unholy sins,
Lay like a beast
Just as Cerberus with wings,
Ready to take the flight,
But alas, it's too afraid to last,
For a journey amidst this quiet past.
~•~
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✔ __________________________________...
