Fate fills each page,
As I sleep
And hope that the new day
Brings something delightful.
But this world is strange
Quite strange,
Sometimes bittersweet
And the other times, a delicate line
Between extremely pretty
And delightfully dirty.
They say that mirror shows the real face of people right?
But even the mirror is strange,
Instead of reflecting a real image
It reflects a virtual one.
Why is it that the unexpected has to accepted?
YOU ARE READING
A Strangely Wrapped Gift.
PoetryA Strangely wrapped gift is for the hopeless who need a friend for their late night talks. It's a book made with love. It's simply a documentation of struggles, and triumph, a celebration of daily life and living. The poetry living within pages tell...
