Feels like Paradise
When I was born, my mother almost died,
My flowers began to bloom and hers nearly dried,
But then He spared us both, not to wave each other goodbye
Blessed to breathe and realize living is not a lie.
On the 13th of August, year two thousand and two
Terrified and almost breathless, His mercy she tried to woo
I have not yet felt the air on my tiny body
I hoped not to leave her a scar, but her love swathed me.
My love for you can not be compared to yours for me
Though my life almost caused your death, regret ain't what I see
In your beautiful eyes, you stare at mine with bliss
Your embrace feels like paradise, a haven filled with peace.
YOU ARE READING
Always on the 13th Hour
PoetryThis is a collection of prose and poetry, and a bunch of thoughts that keeps me awake every night. This is all about what goes on every 13th hour... if that hour even exists.
