Poetry – Page 3 – Youthopia

My Protagonist

My protagonist weeps silently wiping away the white color of its mimed make up. It weeps sitting under the ash covered

Wealth of pelf A step is walked and stridden hard, Sailing against the tides of every evil smart.

Taj Mahal Never does she rest on the bold base in bare, For the delicate paintings drape her ever

The book of life life is an empty book you write its chapters on your own either they’ll be interesting

She peeped through the tiny crack of a door left ajar She saw a tall figure greeted by her mother,

He always hid in her hair On days when she would Deepen in some other’s arms. On days, when the

Look around,everyone is busy running their own race, Madly,blindly,with the aim of being ace They forget who they are,just keep

Evening seems strikingly unusual sometimes, Life appears so inanimate sometimes, If you identify then enlighten me as well, That why

My heart never lets it out.. so i shut my mouth. i walk along her.. and keep quiet.. and curse

I ask him to take a picture of the ocean for me knowing full this wanderlust would not retreat to