Thursday, December 29, 2016


In the white pillow digs

Been down to yours

Spare the moonlit sorrow

While the red lips grow

All the senses cry for

Some meaner tricks

To your sixth sense sorrow

Bury me deep

What you were yesterday

You can't hold them back

While your age crisis sway back and forth

Your misfit jeans that stay in cupboard

Your endless trial for looking for love

And last good try to dream like before

Had finished burning every bit of paper

It had been just a part of misfortune

Burns are a common thingy

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