Practice leads to perfection
I heard them say
But I never practiced pain
Yet the scars in my heart are perfected
And my soul?.
Well; perforated
From years of constant mending.
So when he asked me today
Of how to find true love
I took him to the grave
Where love was last found
And I taught him how to interpret
The silence found at the groove.
Thanks for reading so far Darling
I can't wait to hear your view concerning this poem, don't be a ghost reader😥
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Mi amore
N.B- NO PART OF THIS WORK CAN OR SHOULD BE COPIED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, IT IS TOTALLY MINE AND I RETAIN COPYRIGHT
Thanks.
YOU ARE READING
The Land of Limbo (COMPLETED).
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry written in protest to the silence I carry in the real world. My Lala Land. Here on I can be myself, marking out the battlefield in ink. For fellow comrades, who also carry protest of silence in the real world, feel fr...
