Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2016
Away, I am
from this blank page.
filled with an unknown
undefined rage.
Hatred inside grown
against whom
I cannot comprehend.

Looking for excuses,
drawing away from reality
spitting out curses
on the face of fake charity.

With love for green
I have traveled to places,
upon meeting people
I have not seen
happiness in their faces.

The tune still rings
inside my ***** head.
When will my dreams
grow the wings
needed to fly before
these eyes become dead.
Poems have become a satire to my own self.
Sourodeep
Written by
Sourodeep  30/M/Bangalore, India
(30/M/Bangalore, India)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems