My rage is the silence you ignore.
The space we let come between us.
My rage is the torrent of tears that leave me sore.
My penance for letting you mean too much.
My rage, undiluted will destroy me before it destroys us.
I rage, because I've given you my heart and now I can't take it back.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
YOU ARE READING
Window pain
PoetryThis book is but a humble attempt at encapsulating life and all its flavours. It is an ode to the sad days and melancholy nights. For grief that stays alive even after years have passed. Musings of longings and dreams of escape. And a protest agai...
