Love. Love. Love.
Pieces of tears.
Which rise and shine underneath lung’s breath.
So tasty, yet bruising.
Hurt. Hurt. Hurt.
Clod of love.
Shout ans scream inside human’s mind.
So smarting, yet realizing.
YOU ARE READING
The Black Star
PoetryThis is the symbolism of life, love, and hurt. When brain can't tell anything, the words will be the right way. The poem will be the teacher, and you will be the seeker.
