Hurtled on the floor,
Wounded and scorned.
Laid the rotten apple
That no one cared for.
Never having thought the rotten
apple, at that
Would rise up to be
Someone great one day.
Afterall it wasn't his fault,
That he wasn't of anyone's taste
Or if he laid
On the ground wounded and shed.
Everything happens for a reason,
He didn't know that yet.
For That's what God has planned,
Right now,
To show him round
the cruelworld.
My little Apple
People with pelf
They get hurt at all cost.
And No one cares if they hurt
Or if they're dying on
The floor!
Afterall,
all that others ever pay
heed to was
Power and fame,
And They won't spare you a single glance
If u don't have any of them..
Well, say u got them both,
And
Power & fame
They drip from your frame.
That's something that the wasps
Can never ignore.
Till they have stinged out
All the necter you have got.
So is it a blessing or just
YOU ARE READING
WHISPERS OF THE SOUL ||Poetry||
PoetryA soul so broken and trifled at heart, She writes in order to escape the world. Names of random objects in mind, She keeps writing to escape norms and time... Caged by the chains of restraint! & caged by the expectations to come. No one to turn to f...
