Wounded Dreams Every fourth moon you blab Ranting hell of - TopicsExpress



          

Wounded Dreams Every fourth moon you blab Ranting hell of polluted hope Spitting familiar lies to ears Burying million dreams with token Opprobrium becomes your bed mate Rubbing off the stain of innocent tears Shed by the ones whose fingerprints Casted blind lots of your fate with pains Adolescent dreams get chattered Youthful strength manipulated To build your prison-like empires Where joy never last for moments What then is left for posterity? Oh! Feral love turned democracy Mixed with theories of selfishness Who says nothing is left in this mess? Will dreams ever grow here? Shall the future leaders grow to be? Wont the better tomorrow grow wan? Are our dreams not been tortured now? #MyObsessionForChange
Posted on: Mon, 29 Dec 2014 12:13:00 +0000

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