Micro PoetryPoetry


We stand at a crossroads,
plagued by bitter emptiness,
fatigued by our frailties,
consumed by our distraught souls.
Facades of disgraceful acts,
futile scenes of pretentious nature.
Pantheonic charades and abysmal sequels.
Shroud of memories and furtive lies,
perpetual distance between your lips and mine.
Tumultuous rupture of forlorn love,
everlasting spectacle,
whispers of bygone times.

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