Each page dyed With thoughts smeared with star dust Each verse constructed with, Meticulously chiselled sentences...✍ Drown into this mesmerizing ocean, From which, You won't want to rise whatsoever.☺ To be formal: A poet isn't a person itself. She is a pile of pages , her veins are quills, Always being suffocated without oxygen, due to INKOGLOBIN flow, in lieu of haemoglobin!(not very formal,though) Get ready to get soaked in the mellifluence of the words and to quaff in drops of puissant messages through this poetry collection! Cover credits: myself❤ Highest Ranking:#8 in POETRY (What's hot)
17 parts