abstract · Art · Digital drawing · Emotional warfare · Life · meloncholia · pain and suffering · Personal · poetry · reflective

FTM c1.7


A bottle may lose content,

It always be filled with fluids,

Any kind that one can find.

Then why am I still thirsty after Thursday since last November.

When no one has been giving me thanks all of my effort,

All of that devotion of holidays that has come and gone.

The ones who kept me at bay,

Loves not of what I can,

Only when I am in emergency of my mind,

Thus then they all react to pacify me,

After which,

I hear normalcy from their eyes,

Coz I can’t use my tongue to elevate my mind.

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