Poetry

Dark night has choked daylight. Day is dead.
It won’t come back to senses any more.
You killed the time again. You must be mad
To waste the only treasure you afford.
 
Time is for living not for false alarm
About future and the outcome
Of the events that are not bringing harm
Just now. So my old chum
 
There’s twink anon, so value twink
The future hell is not existing now
And it depends on what you feel and think
Will it take shape or just drop out.