My heart is conversant with misery,
Like a flower that's cloaked with fury,
All the swimmers were drowned in the whirlpool,
Each star I met was melancholy.
Happiness is a fruit I haven't tasted,
Youth a drink I have wasted,
No imagination left in a blind old fool,
My mirth is torn and rusted.
The joys I found frequently,
Have left me abandoned and lonely,
Suffering to me is such a tool,
By which we are sculpted completely.
My life is filled with sorrow,
Experience is what I don't borrow,
Wisdom persuades fire to grow cool,
And I hope for a dawn tomorrow.
***
YOU ARE READING
Recollections | Poetry |
Poetry* FEATURED BY WP POETRY AND AMBASSADORSPK * This is a collection of poems and songs that I love to write whenever I get the chance. I'm sure that these will touch your heart and soul no doubt.
