Blind of It

If never the pain were to subside,
I would not mire in confusion of trying to hide
My hurt for it would not matter.
And then slowly, relentlessly, I died.

My memories are but only faded examples
Of something living, one of God's samples.
It's heart used to be red,
but now proclaimed dead, from painful tramples.

I think... I ponder... I feel I'm done,
Because nobody declared me a "loved one"
And especially, specifically that one girl
Who never knew, will never know,
How in my land, she was my beautiful Sun





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