Upon the bubbles of wisdom a pleasant sky,

With the best of the time to repent.

That never ever fortune stake inside,

Whose fragrance did inherited poison?

Hmm, ya! Bow on your tact and style,

Whose first’s got the ribbons cut.

Shunt! Weird little drop of black blood,

About stare and eyes crystal clear.

Blinking lights in the darkest nights,

Do sprinkle the wise memories of you.

Once appear and next’s do you hide,

And your pride splits wide aside.

Days have passed a voice in me grasped,

Did those were real, the gifts you gave at last?

Read More:

Happy Ways

And Then

Yetesh Sharma