most wretched are cradled into poetry by wrong, they learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Hoping against hope I am,
that a missed chance may come back to me.
A torn leaf I am Flowing with the wind.
Nowhere to go, nowhere to reach,
Hit by the gushes or lying by a lane.
Picked by some unknown wind,
Again to be lying Mudded.
yeah..dats d one..lovely..
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1 comment:
yeah..dats d one..
lovely..
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