The remorse was rose.
The throns unbearable to grasped.
Nonetheless, it rooted into their very being.
Instead seek to mend.
They seel to rid the wound.
Unwittingly fall to the abyss of resentment.
The depth weighting them down to drown.
It suffocates until they drag the innocent.
Falsehood binds them together.
She holds a knife in her hand, they claimed.
It is a blessing in disguise.
Only for the divine soul I allow to grasp.
Time unfold the blind.
Their victims fawn to the truth I possess.
YOU ARE READING
Child of the Cosmos
PoetryThe Divine Soul journeying in human form as a human being with human experiences.
