So, this was the tragic mistakes.
To know you and i was born.
On a death, deep, and dark sea we were.
Cracking the ice to graft the silhoutte of the storm we did.
Kicking out every single plankton or the frightening sharks.
Hell, was it like, fire sorrounding us.
Over and over we’ve figure it out.
Long and hurtful we ‘ve been realize.
Moving closer to the edge was the result.
Soon, we hope for a better chance.
Year and more we wait for the yacth.
No one was seeing us.
Drown and drown we already now.
Resting our body on widely sea sand.
One night, we figure it out.
Me and you was not mean to be.
Ending this soul and love was the best dilemma.
YOU ARE READING
The Black Star
PoesiaThis is the symbolism of life, love, and hurt. When brain can't tell anything, the words will be the right way. The poem will be the teacher, and you will be the seeker.
