A description won't do justice.
Inferiority...
I see dreams,
or make them?
A child,
creates better,
with probably what he touches,
than what my mind wanders on,
why this veil?
why the uncertainty?
A traveller seems less lost,
than my thoughts,
on sandy whirlpools,
why the hazy vision?
of what You bestow upon me?
of not what I want,
but that what I need?
Through this dirt,
what bloom to expect?
and yes,
why?
Poetry by sagi
Read 1192 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2014-05-10 at 03:15
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