since last I ever felt,
the existence of a being,
able to get through,
the wall I put up,
that was never that tough.
And now,
seems that I've ripped,
all that I ever sowed,
from all those beat up,
half dead; I endured.
Unable, I am,
to read in between lines,
drawn by shadows,
shadows of you.
A crossroad, re-opens,
in which each paths,
have of unspoken,
mysterious consequences.
I am unsure,
if I am ready,
to sow together,
the stitches,
which ever so long,
I've kept in tact.
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