And old act,
Yet a gold one,
The feeling resembles
Something of a bad feeling,
Something that hurts heavily on the insides
Pain is an old friend,
But this has more to do with the character
Built out of gold,
The act was of old
Yet it hurts back until it's dealt with, as
They say old is gold
Just like guilt,
It's old but a good thing
As long as you have felt it,
Know that it's the nature of yourself
A human trait
A golden one
Just don't lose it
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Understands
PoetryLike a bird, hatched out the broken shell, with a promised fate yet an unsure one. As its wings bloom with luxury, the wind its companion, the lost treasure its treat, the whole world its vision, the seasons would be its reasons, yet all these freed...
