Kitschy Poem by Cyriac Maliakkal

I was considered the break of me,
I was always out of me.
No memory was occurred for me.
I was died from my side;
I couldn't read any words.
Never recommended the face of good.
Whole was attracted by pessimism.
My views were in the disruption.
Injured my intellectual health.
Recieved a little foolishness of me.
My place is not the place.
I collected the emotionless paintings
For the lives of common.
I were accomodated with it also.
I keep privacy for something,
You had hidden a little rays.
I am rich among the lost lovers
And great among the poets.
I am not a river to bath for you,
The wind broke the cloud bursts.