That silenced voice within us.
On an eve, which wasnβt quite fine,
Positioning myself in a floral garden just to recall those words of spine, About which I was of opinion that itβs invalid, but no, now I canβt. For I descended from that line of thought and almost done in persuading this poor fruitless self; ThatMy existence had nothing to match with, for every life of living and non-living had a purpose unlike mine. Ablow of sound just like a shot got to be held by my ears, βsave meβ that blow says.
Comments (2)
Love this
Interesting