Today we are moving apace,
Too far from the gaze.
Tomorrow we could meet,
Let in the embrace.
How did we not anyway?
But it is the clock,
The time that lets out my secrets.
All the ones that would embarrass,
All the ones that were a disgrace.
There is one that is concealed,
As to the clock cannot reveal.
It is not for the mundane,
For they might obliterate the
Cryptic’s face.
The way he talks,
The way he walks,
All those desecrate friends he makes,
Might not be your taste.
For how the mundane will,
Obliterate the cryptic’s face.
The cloak is worn,
To hide the scars.
For those who see them,
Might try to vitiate from afar.
One thing that the cryptic says,
“All this poisonous hate;
Your heart,
How will it rehabilitate?”
So much disdain,
For a person opposite your taste.
How will you walk this sphere,
Expecting your fledgling to proliferate.
How can a secret,
Urge the mundane,
To obliterate the cryptic’s face!
About the Creator
Sid J
Hello... I am Sid and I love writing short stories. I like listening to music and watching movies. I like taking inspirations from small things and try to be optimistic and welcome change. I hope you like my stories, share and spread love
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