Bestfriend!
Gazing at the far far world, he stood there. Longing evident in his sad, beautiful eyes. As if he were a portrait, a broken piece, Waiting to be fixed, wanting to be healed. He just stood there under the meteor shower, Showering in his own tears, drowning in pain. He who was clearly left behind, was a beautiful, broken mess, A mess that couldn't become a masterpiece without her, who left him.
2018-05-27 12:24:00
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Scar Woods
Lovely poem!
Відповісти
2018-05-29 10:02:27
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Maee
@Scar Woods Thank you!
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2018-05-29 11:35:44
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Scar Woods
@Maee No worries
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2018-05-29 11:36:17
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وردةٌ قبِيحة
و مَا الّذي يجعلُ مصطلحُ الوردة قبِيحة؟ -مَا الّذي تنتظرهُ من وردةٍ واجهت ريَاح عاتية ؛ وتُربة قَاحلة و بتلَاتٍ منهَا قَد ترَاخت أرضًا ، مَا الّذي ستصبحهُ برأيك؟
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I Saw a Dream
I saw a dream, and there were you, And there was coldness in your eyes. I wonder what a kind of true Made you become as cold as ice. And later I looked back to get a sense This empty glance was hellish call of past. It used to be a high and strong defense Against the world, the pain and me at last. You looked at me, and peering in your soul, I felt so lonely, as something vital died. And that is what I fear most of all - That nothing gentle will remain inside. Inside of you. Inside of me as well. And nothing will be said to farewell.
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