The Society
Strangers are familiar,
Neighbours are unknown.
The pride of falsehood,
With a burden of loans.
Choked are our throats,
With crystal bright screens.
Seeking bubbles of fame,
Eyes full of foggy dreams.
We boast of such unity,
With fear of losing behind.
Yield is all but anxiety
From a distracted mind.
A hefty forced freedom,
Lost and forgotten bliss.
A sheer game of survival,
Our society, it is.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
THE PREMISE OF LOVE
PoesíaMy Poetry, the art form of the soul, is an exquisite tapestry of language that weaves together emotions, thoughts, and experiences with skillful craftsmanship. It is a captivating expression of the human spirit, transcending time and culture, to tou...
