Yeah it's not love, shan't one could hope if it'd be.
But why all of a sudden this hope brings the terrible sight of what already took place.
Yeah, it's not relevant to have the repetition throughout the life.
But why the glimpse of the contemplate thought of the calamity.
Yeah, might be possible the shadow never stopped following what had gone.
But there seemed no sign of forthcoming scenerios. Should one expect the different outcomes that can shatter the delusion of old repetition?
Yeah, mind made it happen,
But could one ignore what standing at front.
So why to show hopefulness to the hopeless one when optimistic days of life had shown themselves as a pathetic delusion?
Yeah it's not love, shan't one still hope for it?
YOU ARE READING
Whisper Of A Silent Heart: Loving And Romanticising
Poetry"My love was as cruel as my nightmares, and it was as beautiful as my daydream, which never dare to turn itself into reality, neither did it ever ended like a daydream, the agony kept hanging me like that of half hope, the hope kept hanging me like...
