The Broken promises Never Die,
Yet like the trodden leaves
They adorn the citadel of my poetries.
The Falling rain Never
Amalgamates The dead seas,
Yet like the tumultuous thunders they
Adorn my messed bun with a
Bunch of roses hand-picked.
The shattered heart is never devoid of love,
Yet, like the bruises and Contusions
On the soul they adorn
My Elysium world.
The broken words are never
drained off Sorrows
Yet, like the dust of shooting stars
They adorn the debris of dreams.
The hammered tears
Are Never Intoxicated
Yet, like the Ineffable Spasms they
Adorn the Scars with the Aura of pain.