The life in survival
Won't makes you viral
When things ae vital
Your creativity is definitely mortal
Anyways we are creators
We don't work 9-5 like alligators
We are magic generators
Complex contributors
Young blood loves money
Old loves company
though its some or many
Your needs are compulsory
Make your way out
Believe in you without doubt
Raise words loud
Your hard work makes you proud
Heart is cold
Brain so bold
Body is a mold
Soul to hold
We are creators
You will be my appreciators
Bugatti is in my future
You'll be in second seet for sure
Thats the creations capture
About the Creator
Karun
🌿✨ Karun, a poet weaving emotions into verses, embarked on the journey of words to unearth the beauty of feelings. In the delicate dance of ink and emotion, my poetry delves into the nexus of the human heart and the natural world.✍️
The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Well done.