the newly smell of piling blocks ran through me like breaking walls,
and unresisting pins pulling the air of bamboo like triggering falls,
could be seen in the dazzling eyes the shining tears of hurtful words,
and the head of the bull covered in hairs was slowly pinning the floors.
i don't know, but the complications are unimaginable and way too far,
so i'm climbing a mountain piled with sugar like rocks in a mud war,
and what's never new is the slow kill of pain while it runs through.
YOU ARE READING
Wandering Through Poetry
PoetryPoetry because the essence of our life depends on it. note: these are actually the poems i accumulated for the past 3 years.
