One fine Friday, a life was born,
Through hundreds of days, and
With plenty of love, was raised
To become what I was then.
Like a bird, ready to take off
Into the world, was let
Into the arms of the others,
They enjoyed my music,
As a song sung by the nightingale,
Then one by one, slowly,
Tore me apart, like the precious
Feathers of a peacock.
Torn, empty, lifeless, alone I sit,
I look inside of me, and enquire,
“Is there anybody there?”
And this is what I am now.
# I love reading random poetry, but only Carry On Tuesday motivates me to take some time out and write some of my own in this fast paced world. Cheers to fellow writers and poets!