On a warm breezy morning I was a born
With a silver spoon they said, but not
A heavy mind and a broken heart
Clearly giving a passage, to the dark
As I hear the Pink Floyd playlist playing in my room
I have a bucket list to catch up soon
But life's too repetitive, like a puzzled picturesque
I guess this is what they call impossible
This is the Kafkaesque
YOU ARE READING
The Chain
PoetryTwo lovers bounded by fate but disconnected by void of romanticism. A tale that explores mental sides of love, how a single thought can create a barrier between lovers and how a misunderstanding lead to serious circumstances. Let's find out do these...
