(A poetry of me against social bully. In this fast spinning society, silence itself is a guilt. If I don't break the sorrow, who else would? Farewell, Shirley...)
Beside the unknown, fog is still,
How dare your tongue crumble and prolong,
by spending a sip of cell.
to shut her breathe down?
It is a guilt that I may not able,
counting yelling years on marble,
but iceberg could do,
dancing drops with air as a "no"
Whirl, in the center we spin,
Bear with blood blue blow and all,
without bit of white but mouthing sting,
and flowering hate
I shall not be sorry, for what I was not in,
But my sorry is for my silent sin.
YOU ARE READING
Tigress from the east
PoetryA poetry collection written by a Chinese girl. Biggest life goal of her: sitting in perfect balance of daylights and nights, back towards a mysterious naked tree, a cup of chai is better than coffee. Thinking, turn a being as living
