I lost my touch in loss wonder,
Sank in the bottom of the depth,
Where am I? And where to begin?
Wonder O' wonder I lost my luster.
The strong burn in my heart,
Little by little sluggishly wither,
Like flowers they withered, it lost,
The lost to bloom and the lost to life.
I am nothing I lost,
I Lost for my passion,
I cry for I am now a pebble,
I anguish with insecurity, all is lost.
YOU ARE READING
"La Petit"
PoetrySuprisingly minor in sentiment. Where chiefly Men (human in general) will never understood pathos in these poem. It was written for the fact that these feelings should remain bury where no one can comprehend the rhetorical rhasody of sadness.
