And so she screams in chaotic woe,
from her eyes, leaking endless tears.
A heightened despair clogs her throat,
and her heart opens to the gates of fears.
With her hands shaking,
she picks up the holy frame.
And her tears keep falling,
as she reminisces it all with shame.
With her fiery eyes ablaze,
she throws the painting to the walls.
Letting an ear-piercing clatter,
stain the silent, demonic halls.
Hating the one with whom,
she was seen with, smiling.
Who has now become the cause,
of all her bitter whining.
The one who once held the portions of her heart,
which has now been torn, so harmfully, apart.
For he has broken her into little pieces,
ensuring that she would never love again.
But with the clock ticking by and by,
will she not find love to be her sane?
For has it not always been said,
that love will give a second chance?
To those whose hearts are broken,
because do they not deserve to prance?
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
