‎Thursday, ‎May ‎30, ‎2013

He was the fallen leaves from his…. tree
The one he planted from the root by the damaged limbs
But before he reached down, drifting by melancholy wind
He wanted to restrain one last fight to the gravity
But when he went silent all the way to underneath
The atmosphere could now not resist his reticence
But as he was disappointed terribly through, words itself denied sense
For some who Providentially witnessed, they said..
Everything was defined on his concealed moist eyes,
They were dead as if the sun has lost its rays
But it tormented soar again because things were lost and left now and then

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