Karma was served hot on a platter that July summer day.
I wasn't expecting compensation for the pain you caused, but in its own poetic way, karma krept it's way.
You felt the tears stream down your face, the same ones that once stained my face.
I didn't feel sad or bad when I heard you cry. I could feel the damp tears running down your mascara. I was relieved that you could at least sympathize now because I did the same thing you did to me. The only thing different is that I did it gently.
Once you've hit the concrete, there's only one way back unless you drag yourself against it like you do.
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Another birthday poem I wrote. It was quite the birthday this year...
YOU ARE READING
Life Beneath The Words At Play
PoetryMy poetry is only to fill blank pages. You decide how to color it in. That meaning, you can interpret the poems the way you want. I only put the words together, and you decide the rest :) Yet another poem dump for my unorganized mess that is my poe...
