The heart will sing
The song called mourn
It won't behold
The devastating eve
Hives of my life
Pieces are left
Blind souls
Aren't deaf
Blue and black
Devoid of color
The red is only temporary
Black is permanent
Delicate but strong
Broken but alive
The story of mourn
As to the point end.
YOU ARE READING
Reflecting The Truth
PoetryWords that intruded my mind and I decided to turn them into something meaningful.
