
I do not remember when idles dreams
of fracturing future possibilities
lost their sun-kissed gleam
and we dulled our ambitions into inabilities
with every spare second spent
swallowing bitter scraps of stories
about those privileged to fly; wings meant
for glimmering in their golden glories
but my ink-stained tongue
yearns to taste pages untold
lest we forget till death we are young
enough to be hungry, wanting and bold
perhaps the soul needs a few paper cuts
if only to remember all of this world, belongs to us.
Beautiful!
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thank you ^_^
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You’re welcome!
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Fabulous……!
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