• zahra 3w

    He was sluggish to put to an end
    Maybe wounds moiled too deep
    Fretful holes in his soul
    Ruptured the saga whims
    Time ago, he imprisoned himself
    With glorious promises
    He knew, this shackled solace
    A wanderer called many
    In a lost town of prison
    All his loneliness yearned
    A resting booth to hide
    Thickness of dry hope
    Whirled in a cold wave of sea
    Every inch of his stabbed heart
    Screamed: Is there any to help me?
    He didnt know , murdered heart was tested
    Foiled into a brave heart to dance
    On the floors of ups and downs..


    ┬ęzahra