Seductive Pain...
Depressed in the thoughts of vain,
Whiskey made its way,
In down the veins,
Laying around diversely,
Drifting into the cluster of sorrow,
Seek his death,
In the pitcher of alcohol,
The street lamps,
Flew adobe like the Valkyrie did,
He felt a soft moan encircle the clinic,
Towards was a tree left in solitude,
It must be happy,
Ain't she?
No young man,
You are... said she,
Both merged into a disputed conversation,
Speaking the burden of thoughts and leaves,
It went on for night indeed,
Ended for good,
Silence remarkable,
Ain't it?
An awkward silence isn't so,
Flowing breeze collided their sight in a while,
There was nothing left to march for,
A tear and dead leaf met the ground,
Congruently...
poem by Vikrant Jog
Added by Poetry Lover
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