A poem recited so bleak, written in black,
Black ink from the depths of our hearts.
Empty white souls used as canvases.
The black ink
Permanently staining the canvas dark
No chance for change, too late for regret.
All the colours you pretend to be
Are born of this black and white elegy.
How ironic being blinded by colour.
YOU ARE READING
My horizon's view
PoetryMy collection of poems, I started writing poetry and fell in love with it. I intend to write philosophical poems but I may stumble or stray, so kindly bear with my insanity. Thank you for your time. Feel free to give me opinions, advices and I'm alw...
