Tuesday, 29 September 2015

Poor Child.


Let me tell you,
About
The divine that you hide.
For which is not,
In those skies far above.
For it was;
Has always been;
Within the voices unheard.
Yes dear,
Those four chambers.
Those tamer of sorts.
Who always, 
Won.
While you,
Fought.
Yes mister,
Never mind.
If you,
Lurk being sinister.
For, 
What that has been hidden,
Shall find its way back.
No matter,
What happens
You'll find
Your track.
Let,
Stones
Be your savvy.
Unless, 
You love it enough
To marry.
Don't you ever think,
It'd be a crime.
To live your dream,
While others let it sublime.
For what has always been,
With you.
Is the treasure you confide.
Open your arms,
For once.
And close your eyes, awhile.
For I may,
Take a picture.
While,
A fool reads.
And I, 
Capture his smile.

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