Meadow of life ...
Meadow
Bored with the tiresome
work called 'being alive'
I pick up pen and
make drying nib move.
Don't know sweet words
can't even compose any,
my whisper merely entertain
dead breeze lost in meadow.
Truth is hard
love is merciless
hated is warm
thirst searches lull.
Still I forge
not to kindle you,
but to convince
we walk proudly shore of life !
Meadow
Bored with the tiresome
work called 'being alive'
I pick up pen and
make drying nib move.
Don't know sweet words
can't even compose any,
my whisper merely entertain
dead breeze lost in meadow.
Truth is hard
love is merciless
hated is warm
thirst searches lull.
Still I forge
not to kindle you,
but to convince
we walk proudly shore of life !
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