It's all over the messed vessels,
She begins her daily....
Busy bees were much less,
Than her ways.
More would her plans were about
Cleaning, slaughtering nor- resting
Holds by hand gapping desires!
Omens showed her prints,
Into her dreams...
Feels gratitude for her dreams
Not for her gifted days....
Y, didn't someone tell her to fly?
Y, didn't he even care to ask?
She is gone to be known,
To her known, still known....
Y only SHE and HER?
YOU ARE READING
The Days Of Her🖤
PoetryThis is about an Indian girl, her desires and for profound omen thoughts
