The pain in the vein is gradually going through my blood,
It's hurt me like fork
Sometimes it's feels like prick,
But my heart never broke.
The days becomes tough,
rather I forgot the reason of my last laugh.
And the most holiest thing becaming as a figure like devil.
Till my heart fights
Every hopes destroyed while,
The injury of the body can be cured.
But what about the injury of heart?
I don't know what this medicine is called!
The only thing which I know
Is the purest Heart
The holiest heart
That never give me to broke.
The consecutive pain makes thing
The most holiest and purest.
- Author: L.Uz (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: September 16th, 2024 12:01
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 26
Comments1
Excellent write
Thank you
You're welcome
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.