Art of Cimeries

Worn with lies,
That comes from the summit.
Worn with lies,
Of wings with no limit.
Worn with lies,
That I have never admitted.

Worn with running,
From the ravenous gaze.
Worn with running,
Through this endless maze.
Worn with running,
With lungs filled with haze.

But now here.
Nowhere.
Not worn.
Unborn.
Free at last.
From this cast-e.



Poem By Sanjeev 'Cimeries' Retnasingam