No, nothing happened good to me; neither the life nor poetries!
Nothing had been well! Even, couldn't I collect some pain or pleasure neither in heart nor in a glass-frame Barely a tinge of remorseful ineptitude that hung from my listless visage.
Have tried to mend for better errday but have shattered completely in each trial, getting myself before me!
Nothing had been propitious. All words in my poetry diary bite bitterly sweet like mad snakes No, nothing was fertile; neither piercing smiles nor charming tears that I used to write in poetries under Dear Dark Moon!
* One muddy hut old, housed two older souls and a lovely life enough for the husband-wife Some pain and fear few smiles and tears love between them trouble had no name One for another lover, beloved no promise struck- things great to pluck. Morsel of rice with nothing nice the meals they ate twice But were umpteen peace in all hugs and kiss.
** Came there a Strom uninvited alone Lingered the days of rain ran out their grain Nothing there to eat none there to treat, no one to meet or to stand and sit Bloody cold and fever became strong and severe Old lady couldn't tolerate before twas late man went for doctor but returned he never!
A part of me is holding tears back from all tearing eyes. I'm bold, things to hold so, stoned my heart o, dear! If I cry loud bursting all clouds, won't come a flood, wouldn't wash my sandy castle away! Magma in my chamber like burning ember but I pretend to be cool.
The one didn't keep the promise left us in stormy premise I learnt to walk amidst- thorns wrapped in mist so, steeled my feet O, dear!
I have to begin killing all feelings setting the journey that is left halfway!
Beautiful, mesmerising, raising curiosity. Brushed by various hues. Putting up a smile that's obviously cloaked. Breathing but the wind pipe seems choked. Representing a disturbed artist's brilliant showcase of a beautiful mess. She represents some chaotic beauty on that once blank canvas.
The moon from my window, the girl lying dead, men being abusive, man's cry is a threat. The sun is out again, the market price is so high, someone orders food to eat half-heartedly meanwhile, I saw an empty stomach crying. The evening is beautiful though, probably bisexual for the dark and glow when shadows are longer than before, same is the route yet long is the way to home,