(An International Journal of Poetry)
ISSN 2249 –2178
Volume-3 DECEMBER -2013 Number-2
escape from the mind,
To purify and keep it kind.
I sit on the damp tiles of the rooftop,
The moon is foggy like my mind.
It's covered in filth,
It needs to be cleansed.
The night feel is inspiring, I feel I can do anything up here.
Above it all, my mind becomes clear.
There's good and bad memories up here,
seem like made up high school stories; the ones you find in books.
It's a reminder like the traces of the glowing sun on the other side of the earth,
it is real and you have to feel all that is real.
Encircled by the silent surroundings, my dreams come alive.
I bring no one here any longer, for I'd have to include them in my journey.
This is my sanctuary,
The old one I've finally visited.
Where the tears fell,
the laughs were heard,
and the unwanted words were said.