Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2
If you finally come,
And meet me home,
Seated in despair,
Looking like a failure,
A maniac in amnesia,
In a picnic of insomnia,
Just know I tried,
But my hands were tied.

If you see life rhymes,
Think not of a hymns,
Neither a complete flair,
Nor it as a myrrh.
Things make a dipsomania,
Too a megalomania,
Life's rhythm's sophisticated,
Hard to dance to it's rhapsody.
Written by
Simon Mathole
42
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems