The Lost Kite

The kite flies high,
unable to hold it tight.
Should I let go of that kite,
let it free, untie?

My hopes dies,
now my turn, falling into a plight.
Wish to be a kite,
where there's someone to hold it tight.
It wont be flying so high,
just to make sure not being untie.

by Yellowish Blue Spots

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Comments (1)

nice poem, nice thought......