Heartache lingers, guilt's bitter sting,
All the broken hearts, like wounded birds on wing.
Searching for the lost pieces, a path to heal,
If only you knew the pain they truly feel.
A heart unbroken, a concept unknown,
For empathy, compassion, you've never shown.
In this tangled web of emotions, you rule,
Leaving behind hearts, wounded and cruel.
YOU ARE READING
It's Still 12a.m.
PoetryAs the clock's final whisper embraced the dying day, darkness enveloped my room. Raindrops danced upon the fog-kissed windowpane. In the gentle glow of a dimmed lamp, I sat at my table, pen poised to capture the thoughts that flowed from the depths...
