Yet, dolour affirmed the fib,
Perfidiously died in a lap of autumn.
Help, help!
I am alive, seems like already forgotten.

Astrophil urged Stella,
Dirge of angst in a slur,
Wait , wait!
He hung fire for the love of her.

I try, i cry, yes i unfold, i die,
Let the darth befall,
Espy the pang,
Discern the Thanatos’s call.

As immortal as a song of Nightingale,
Every forest hast an anecdote,
Troth of murk,
In every word i wrote.



I write what i see, and feel what i breathe. Poetics, Realism is what i bathe in. Hope do i not that you see my words than just read?

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