Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
aditya-royPoems
Flesh of a lonely man Needs make up Wreaths on this list coming Crossing out and ticking the boxes We’re still holding the dust of souls And ashen glances look like desultory glances ****** on the nursed streets The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes Feigining for the father figure I hope we have had a good time The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way
0
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 7:41 PM UTC
Traveler
Flesh of a lonely man Needs make up Wreaths on this list coming Crossing out and ticking the boxes We’re still holding the dust of souls And ashen glances look like desultory glances ****** on the nursed streets The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes Feigining for the father figure I hope we have had a good time The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way
I’m glad the worker is dead I wanna govern it all to Elative and error in my loveless ways I can’t get anything out of my horse and wine
#far#from#falling#fists
aditya-roy
Written by
aditya-roy
28/M/New Delhi, India
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 7:41 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem