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qasid-aliPoems
I'm losing every bit of courage You left me with a rage How do you expect the pain to submerge I'm neither a saint nor sage. You were my north star Shining through the thick You were my herb tar Curing me, when I'm sick I've been patient all along I've endured the pain life long My story is the saddest song Sung with the beat of thorns on thong. My dreams are deception What happened to me seems abdication With untidy water, is my ablution I'm a soul now self neglecting, performing self reflection. Neither a saint Nor a sage Just a soul patient All his age A reflector, with pain as wage Thrown after use,like a bandage. Neither a saint nor sage. Decades of pain as age. Purified by the tears The wanderings alone throughout years I'm a mountain of wisdom Awaiting to be known I'm neither a saint nor sage But a dervish unknown.
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Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
Neither a saint nor sage.
I'm losing every bit of courage You left me with a rage How do you expect the pain to submerge I'm neither a saint nor sage. You were my north star Shining through the thick You were my herb tar Curing me, when I'm sick I've been patient all along I've endured the pain life long My story is the saddest song Sung with the beat of thorns on thong. My dreams are deception What happened to me seems abdication With untidy water, is my ablution I'm a soul now self neglecting, performing self reflection. Neither a saint Nor a sage Just a soul patient All his age A reflector, with pain as wage Thrown after use,like a bandage. Neither a saint nor sage. Decades of pain as age. Purified by the tears The wanderings alone throughout years I'm a mountain of wisdom Awaiting to be known I'm neither a saint nor sage But a dervish unknown.
qasid-ali
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qasid-ali
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
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