Black, the color of my skin.
Black, the color of my void heart.
Black, the color of my void soul.
Black, the color of sadness.
Black, the color of death.
Black, the color of the night.
At night I lift my weary eyes to the sky, I see beauty, I see the stars, I see the moon.
YOU ARE READING
Broken hearts club
PuisiTears,the way the eyes speak when the mouth fails. Poetry,the way the heart speaks to avoid judgment from others. Pen and paper,accepts the writing whole heartedly with no judgment.
