His soul is as fragile as the old windowpane of his room.
He sheds tears and believes his life is doomed.
He imprisons his words into the cage of his heart.
He sees nothing, only the world's hate and hurt.
Victim, he said, of misfortune in love.
He forgets to pray something to look above.
Not rescued, Yes! He is.
Thinking only the bad sides, forgetting that mind needs peace.
Let him see that rain will soon stop pouring on his windowpane.
God will send someone to ease the pain.
Rain will stop. Sun will shine brightly as soon as he opens his window pane.
YOU ARE READING
M.E.
PoésieJust like a butterfly calmly resting into a delicate white flower, so does the thought of a pure-hearted poet. Gentle and meaningful.
