My tiara imprisons a conspiracy
of holding restrictions beyond
the repercussions of love.
It had always made me breathless,
yet I hugged the solemn whisper
brought by the existence of naught.
The anonymity always offers me companionship.
And now I trailed the path of being
a princess with no specific crown.
I'd rather be classified as a low-grade lady
than be written as a quintessential living turmoil.
Being an unpredictable frail
teaches itself great lesson
through its journey to the throne.
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Brain Flakes Poems
PoésieThese poems were genuinely written to unfold the mystery in every stroke of my thoughts and imagination's journey.