Created by the and confined to the
box I live, warning you all to
not to devour on me, for it
will only provide you with
grave agony and baulk.
Made for a motif, for a purpose,
but seem to have been proven an
incompetent in its fulfillment.
Still I was there.
With the passage of time, I grew
big, for a worldwide significance;
to which you all did gaze, but I guess,
my elucidation was a bit too muddy
to be comprehended.
Still I'm there.
Still I stand, being a traitor to
my holder with a hope, that
'one day - the wind will change.'....
I have imagined that what would happen if the person, who is shown on the cigarette packet with black livers, ever comes to life...
Move forward with with beautiful dreems until reach your fruitfulness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Waooo...what a topic...well written..