Completed. Poetry. Short story.
Amber was one of the best fine artists in town. Blessed with intelligence, she knew how to make the best use of her talent. Everybody loved her, her and her paintings.
When she was so perfect with her work, praises di...
I made thousands of her portraits Capturing each of her annoying traits, Even I couldn't help but marvel At my nasty talent; it did startle;
I drew and drew and drew, Kept building hatred anew, Soon I realised this mentality of mine Was anything but fine;
However, it was easier said than done Away, I couldn't just run; Whenever my hopes dared to run free This jealousy tortured me.
:::
Scarlet is hurt as much as me, No one can not see, How my iniquity left her scarred, And destroyed her esteem guard;
However, here she attempts at a small talk, At my abandoned virtues, she does knock, She dares to explain me her trying, She stands on the verge of crying;
Daggers I can't see stab at me, Useless remains my every plea, Still, some essence in me I can't trace Pulls her in an embrace.
•×•
Hola, babes!
That little star down loves to turn orange. Make it? :D
