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It's too sunny,
With howling winds.
Stings when I look up;
Burns with the drinks.
It's too much,
Trapped in my heart.
Feeling too intense.
While other days,
There's nothing;
But their absence.
No rays, no blow,
Not even a cloud.
No emotions to flow,
Free of any crowd
Feeling nothing.
Tell me now,
What's worse:
Burn of breeze,
Or empty to freez?
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●• ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇᴅ •●
Poetry•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●• ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᴳⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵘˢ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᶜᵃʳ ᴮᵘⁱˡᵈˢ ᵒᵘʳ ᵗʰʳᵒⁿᵉ ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ...
