Incomplete

A poem devoid of rhymes,
A religion missing devotion.
My soul is the ultimate sign,
Of a canvas lacking emotion.

My thoughts fill the pages,
Of A book without a name.
Mirroring a lamenting visage,
That will never be the same.

I’ve tried hard to feel whole,
With the dawn of a new day.
Yet the cracks in my soul,
Come alive with the dying sun ray.

-Nameera.

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