To Youthful Virgins





Am a tore page from many chapters.
Being crumbled by hands of many, stabbed and burned as they pass.
Crushed feelings like never before sprout deep in me.
I have lost many people to whom I owned a bond.
Tore apart like it never should be united.
It’s like am waiting for someone as I wake up with the star.
Facing the irreconcilable me on the cheval glass is my first vision before dawn.

And it’s not the infirm me.
He is strange, unknown, and distinct to the youthful virgins.
.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Line

Birth

TROPICAL