Cold and shivery,
that's what I feel.
The loneliness, my state does conceal.
Here I lay, to no absolute avail.
My works of art have surely gone stale.
The loss of interest really did stay.
How it makes my frail pride turn grey.
Alas! the distant shadowed peak,
Laid far below the horizon I seek
Has become vague and yet discreet.
I slowly await, the future I'd meet.
By JustineDiza
Thank you for taking the time to write the poem. (:
P.S.: Stay strong. Though it seems it's not worthy to wait, the blues will soon start to fade.
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Exiting Exulansis
RandomExiting Exulansis (Ex-u-lan-sis: (n) The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it-whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness-which allows it to drift away from the r...
