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In a physic class,
As we were talking about subatomic particles,
Our teacher said that
Every particle has a antimatter,
So that everything has an anti.
It made me think:
If everything has an anti,
And we were also something,
Don't every human have an antihuman?
Maybe it's what they call soulmate,
The person who completes you.
I always wondered mine,
If I've ever seen him,
Maybe passed by him in the street,
Or bumped into him in the corridor,
Maybe it's you.
Nevertheless, I hope it isn't.
Because if it's you,
It means you were sent to wound me,
Plus, it means I've been sent to be bruised.
I know I didn't.
Everyone was sent to find their kind of happiness
so please tell me,
You came to make it in the hard way.
But in the end, tell me,
I'll find happiness.
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YOU ARE READING
White Memories of A Black Life
Poetry"I have never tasted the brightness of yellow, the calmness of blue, the cheer of green or the love of red. I felt something; still do I, but never related to colours. I only know the pureness of white and the mystery of black. Oh, and grey. For mos...
