Ash
.
.
.
Sculptures
.
.
.
Ruins
.
.
.
Broken city
.
.
.
Where life I see is peace and good deeds
I see history of belongingness and friendship so strong
Sculptures that that helps each other's needs
Broken city turns to ruins ; a place where they belong
Leaving marks like they decided
To left the world alone
As the city turns to history
Just like old memories too
The war I think was not war
The war I imagine is like an art
A war that leave a mark
Chaos that ends with good hearts
YOU ARE READING
Souls
PoetryAs the stars look down They can see us on the ground With the moons different mood And the suns chaostic tune Life would be Like a fire We can see the fire We can feel the heat But we can't see it
