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On an empty bottle of perfume
s
tenchy smell screams,
Impaired speakers tuned
like of no more dream;
Window shows sad shadows
i
n contrast of how it seems,
On mirror saw a curly hair
with flaws
needing a careful trim.
Sitting faces lying at the corner —loveless,
Radio inherits
melancholic verses —hopeless;
Answers Mama's call
in low tune voice —depressed,
As those cold winds
hits like blocks —compressed.
A naught visibility resides
o
n an empty room,
Thousands of zeros printed in zoom;
At the garden peek a frisky starlight,
Transcends slightly glowing
light on midnight.
Would the sunrise
arouse one more chance?
And could the sunset
performs a boogy dance?
YOU ARE READING
𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐈: 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
Poetry𝐴 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 :𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒. Life is a labyrinth full of intricate passageways, b...
