my heart scattered into pieces
like fragments of smaller glass pieces
seeing the heart scattering view
how could I bear that due
as I flipped through the pages
the pain kept growing and growing
heads in palms, I grit my teeth with a sound
banging my head on the table round
they stare at me like hounds
I hear like a thousand sounds
the big ovals called zeros
on my copy are the villains
my mom still says I will be a hero
I don't think so , if I get zeros
oh my god! I will get whipped up
I want my mathematic copy ripped up
so I could say 'what's up' again
not being for the final time
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YOU ARE READING
The Blossoming Night
PoetrySelf written poetry on the topics nature, romance, humor and others.
