Parched with the heat of forlorn life
Lack of fresh air slicing resembling knife
Dried in the desert of abandoned love
Being paid with fatigue rise and fallen dove
Unknown, invisible to strife’s lineage
With inconsistent showing of supposed bondage
With clandestine thoughts of bothering conduct
Awful river of tears on the cot the product
Perplexed with conflicting treatment of devotion
Relying on petals of flowers for the prediction
Clueless of scenes, deprived of even small lexis
When a heart breaks, breakeven lacks its axis
Probing cure, emerge thy presence in front of a glass
Sick and tired of hearing “this too shall pass.”
Sublime angel of the furthermost vigor intensity
Heal this dilemma cause nobody knows it but me….
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