Thursday, February 11, 2010

PHOENIX

I thought I turned into an empty page
Day hit me hard on my forehead
Dark nights conspired from behind
Both struggled in open for my silence
Wounds of past and present
clogged in my blood stream.
My brain, a storage unit
of all memories; good and bad
emerged from  ashes like a phoenix
The pessimist in me died...

No comments:

Post a Comment