• syedseerat 5w

    She writes

    The poetry is not a tale
    When you fill a life within,
    It breaths inside, i feel
    It shouts inside, i weep
    It breaks inside, i seek
    Words that still alive,
    in the lines fitted scars
    That deeds filled with pain
    All the stories whitted in rain.
    Her poetry writes you knitted in sane.
    The patience,
    And cries
    The clamour,
    And lies
    Reads you load In the nights,
    Her findings for you all everywhere,
    I am in pain, the names she roars.
    You was not there, her lonely shadows
    She cried!
    She cried!
    she cried!