The tatters of the past
And the sprinkles of melancholy
Which sculpt us—
Into where we really are.
Then there's the aftermath
On which we circumvent
Even though its passages
Were always narrow.
I have to go;
Beyond the mundane meadows
That most of us crosses
To plod and to follow.
Because I have that experience
To which I felt the fallout;
The fallout that I always dreaded—
That fallout that I didn't wanted.
For which I appreciated—
Its ferocity.
YOU ARE READING
Telling My Own Thoughts; Short Poems ✔️
PoetryBook 2 of the "Short Poems" series. - - - "Applaud like there's no tomorrow; live like there's no such thing as sorrow." - - - (NOTE: THE TITLES OF THE POEMS WERE ALL GOT INTENTIONALLY CAPITALIZED ON THE FIRST LETTER OF EACH WORD FOR AESTHETIC PURPO...
