A world discoloured
brought back to life
though hurt once by the sharp
edge of that knife
He was the sun
blinding to the eye
ever scorching. Never fails,
to paint ash with dye
I thought
he was just awkward,
yet sunflowers got torn
coldly slaughtered
Perhaps he
was a mere coward
not destined to be. Thus
all were unbothered
YOU ARE READING
crushing on him
Poetry'the feelings I get, I'd never regret' A journey of sweet and bitter memories with the persona as she expresses her feelings while she falls in love - in poems. [A poem for the book of poems] Hello fellow readers, I guess I was chosen My books shall...
