• heartsease 6w

    I was fading into darkness
    until poetry brought me a sun,
    little did I knew metaphors
    don't make your soul glow
    until you yourself choose to burn.


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    The breeze of October feels
    little cold these days and I'm
    wandering in the fields of words,
    for winters are already reserved
    by wordsmiths.
    But my mind seems to be warm,
    it's a battlefield where millions
    of thoughts are fighting against
    each other to settle their king-
    dom over my tongues tip.

    My frozen heart is fathomed
    under the bright summer sun
    but my allegories succumb in
    front of those winter chills
    which make me rest upon the
    boulevards of imaginations.
    Leaves have turned viridescent
    till now, orange already bade
    adieu brushing my skin with the
    hope of another reincarnation.

    The war is left half played
    because some days it rains down
    or summer comes too soon and
    moreover I need frost to stabilise
    my turbidity.
    But the revolution is more about
    raising lilies and jasmines on the
    the porcelain of my battlefield,
    making them my muse for eternity.

    And the breeze of October feels
    little warm on days when I walk
    on road which take me under the
    shelter of sunkissed poetries.