#FridayNight_05 - Poetry

Seventy-two months of bright fire,

And all was for nothing.

Even though I knew the outcome,

Then why this strange feeling?

The feeling of being broke and loose,

With fire surrounding me in Arctic

Where I am running without shoes.

Even the Pacific stops her tides to take me in,

As she understood in

Love I get no win

Even the Gita Orator,

couldn’t answer

“To get some love, why is it so tough”

Maybe just because,

I am basically incapable of being loved.



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