Categories
Poetry

A senile

He is smiling, loving his life
I wait for nights to end
But they never
He is no cruel
But cruel is his heart
It makes no sense
In the sphere of life
It makes him lier
In the face of life
It makes him think
About the sin he did
He weeps and cries
But can’t rule his heart
His heart is a master
No one could tame
He feels my pain
But could never be mine
He ain’t a saint
He is just a senile.

By aamerbasher

Aamir Bashir is a Romance fiction writer. He has been writing for a while. Her Choice to Love is his first book.

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