poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
with petals,she has moulded me into a rose,and now one must wait,as my garland of flowers,is slowly put to rest,and I must lay sweet nectaron her grave,for she made me so sweet,but like a rose,I spit with my ribbed edges,with thorns etching at fingers, I must lay her to rest,with bulleh shahs’ poems,with bismillah at […]