The time says,it ain’t substitute for her pains,
She craved to convince her doubts,
into the faults of others, whereby,
her cravings carved no sense.
From North came a deflected windy stroke,
which dared not to touch her skin,
but managed to gush down her soul,
The undeliberate, unbiased effort,
somewhere,put her together into one.
Twas,then,she trodden the path of wind,
The broken she was unscathed .
Ample to procure her relevancy,
She was no longer the inmate,
rather,the awaken soul of nobility,
Rendered her every nerve to this stroke,
the wind-the disguise of thy soul.
she tried paying it with Armour,
unshared,she felt it was,
and thou generalized her ungeneral love,
thou categorized it into favorable love.