Theme: Anguish

Novel Pain

I wasn't poor, being not rich
Life was fine, thanks to hope
All that changed, owing to muse,
With one ‘novel’ passion pure
Affairs I had, five of them
Unknown to the lovers of books,
Enamoured not by publishers dull
Manuscripts of those make pillows
In my bed to cause nightmares,
With hope dead, I can’t dream
Now I’m poor, robbed of hope.  


More By  :  BS Murthy

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