I don't really mean to destroy every other person,
But strangely I work like a black widow,
It's ironic that my love to them make their woe worsen,
Even though I stay close like a pillow.
Maybe I am an omen that makes the surrounding blacken,
Or maybe its the sorrow within that leeks through the window.
To be the reason why your love cries when you have done nothing wrong, but your presence brings bad luck, is something that no woman can ever get over.
Chaahat
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The Darkest Shade Of Black
PoetryAbout that shade of black that's darker, deeper and stronger. About a black so mean that it scared death away. About the blackness in my heart that seeks to all the bright. About a black so overpowering that it degrades all smiles. About T...
