TATTERED
In a scenario to be true,
Skies shattered of stars, atmosphere blue.
Ogling to the tattered moon,
Breaking into pieces of triumph, returning to dreams soon.
Nightmares are no more forlorn,
Habituated with abrupt arousal born.
Even the enchantress I adorn,
An idea of eureka moment! closes with refusal to adorn.
In virtue, the threads of connection never tied wounds,
Momentary mankind is not better than permanent phantom bounds.
'Lone to healed is what contentment I found,
In the quiet solitude of life's profound grounds.
Copyright © Pari Bucha | Year Posted 2024
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