Second Time By A Prostitute's Door - Poem by Abiee Josy
I don't care about my life.
...don't care about the valentine with a red rose.
Who don't give a...
So this is second time where I stand.
Pretending like a matured man.
Across down down a dusk.
In front a rusted door knob.
A cigarette packet into my pocket.
My phone crying its loud.
A mini stair case beyond this door
Heaven lies up on this floor.
But Why can't people understand
the reality never change with time.
Comments about Second Time By A Prostitute's Door by Abiee Josy
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You