This time, I'm out of words,
Out of titles, out of done(s),
So, how'd I design this rhyme?
Hopefully, by the jumbled-up letters of mine.
The lonely paths, the clueless walks,
Leads nowhere, but confusion,
A need to find, and heal the deformation.
The more are the claps,
The more I uncover the flaps.
The more I get into this,
The more troubling it gets,
Could've been clever,
But sincerity lied in the folly.
It remains unsolved, and un-vitaled,
Here I take over the new page, "The untitled."
YOU ARE READING
Chaotic Rhymes.
PoetrySometimes, you might write some junk, in the middle of the night. All you've got to do is, grab a pencil and a paper, and scribble. Who knows, one day, you might compile the bits, and name them as 'your work'. It's the result of the same actions. Wr...
