From a broken heart tears dont flow,
it just turns into an un-heeling sore,
bleeding more inside
than the deep red that shows on its outside.
It lives on its own
lonely and alone.
It rescues itself from finales' which would kill the sore-
from pitfalls of love which had once healed craters of tired souls,
only to turn into a automated retired core.
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5 comments:
i guess i ave found something..m jst right now reverberating with each line here...
its so like me..
i dont know whether i should be happy or sad about the fact that u can connect with my poem.
u shd not feel anything about it :)
its jst my reprise
Beautiful poem here. Others are good too.
Lovely blog:)
indicaspecies:
Its always a pleasure to get compliments for what we write.
thank you for taking out time to acknowledge what i do.
hope to see you more.
:)
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