A Rhythmic Beat

Missing the dreams of a rhythmic sound,
Deep into oceans and lands on ground,
Taken into custody in a tick-tock pace,
For time is slow wearing a didactic face,
Improbability the unknown remedy,
Functioning in depicting a tragedy,
In poetic voices a sense of clarity,
If by our choices extracting purity,
And so I live to master my poetry,
Through which I wish to paint my artistry,
A chosen domain with limited crowd,
Tasting an elegy painted out loud,
Immense emotions shape into a word,
‘Savagery’ or ‘adore’, ‘melodious’ or ‘bored’,
Attempting to recreate a roar so loud,
In hope of a rosy moment when I am proud.
Friday, 15thof May 2015

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