• aartinepal 24w

    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.