It was half past twelve midnight
when I suddenly woke up
by the underlying myriads of distorted symphonies
that kept bugging me for quite some breadth of time.
As I had my eyes opened,
I wasn't sure if I've gone to sleep
or was it just a piece of me that I sent to slumber
and left the rest of my puzzle
wandering a portal of a realm
where my greatest waterloo is my greatest shield.
YOU ARE READING
The Flyleaf
Puisi"Poetry is the aesthetic translation of the world's dynamism." Here is a collection of poems in random subjects. Enjoy! 💕
