With realizing myself binded with illusionary cuffs,
And when my eyes meet those,
My eyes doesn't trusts –
And the white paper in which a pen's point is stabbed into;
The ink keeps spreading over the sheet
Still mixing with the white;
To form a disturbing sight,
To form another meandering lane,
Surrounded with white pearls and white lights –
To wander through the maze
Passing through it to meet its end
But the path is bungled,
But makes you accept it
The wind blew~

Hearing the whistling wind,
I open my eyes
Still everyone cheering me with my name
And I wake up from the reverie
And see the ink dripping...


© mesmerictiu_

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Penned At: 23/05/2021
#PoemsCuppie

End of the poem Frail.. Mmm, actually this poem is based on an incident I faced. (You can read it if not bored) Once in class...