Just like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her.
Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
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#ONTHEBRIDGE
The paths from the crossroads diverge, And seem to melt into the dark The traveller standing at the junction, Wonders at the emptiness stark.
He looks left, he looks ahead, Trying to judge which road to take, Both leads to impenetrable darkness But he has to go on for the destination's sake.
I standing on the bridge am aloof, From all the drama unfolding below Cause for me the darkness is just a patch, There's light my eyes see beyond, wow.
The traveller's confused which to choose, I'm confused as to why the delay Because I've taken the route in daylight And it's a pleasant enough road, all the way.
He looks up at me with disdain in his eyes, Judging my higher pedestal with a frown, I'm ignoring him completely as I put on, A glorious victory's authoritative crown.
Funny part is he will never know what, I went through to reach where I am here. And I won't ever know what he's going through, And yet in life we judge each other everywhere.
