Turning over this one
The distress of the past sonnet transforms into lotus leaves
Sprouting on the paper, doused with
The secret opinion
A page becomes wrinkled
A sonnet has a spirit
I can't tolerate rereading it however it is as yet striking
A line holds up an individual and goes far away
A distant spot is a distant spot
A transporter pigeon can't fly over the sea
You just see such countless individuals adoring and trusting
Be that as it may, how would you know such countless individuals disdain and hate
Peruse a sonnet and consider yourself the fundamental person
To hypothesize about an individual, and to say something else
The individual who composes a sonnet strolls among trustworthiness and lack of clarity
The thrashing around of the heart, similar to the restless evenings
Comments (1)
Love this, great job