And now my hands connect with yours,
with your love that brings me to all my fours.
And now these walls have been blitzed by sorrow,
filled with the voices that scream, so hollow.
And now my wail means nothing to your fears,
now there is no one to touch, to dry my tears.
So what should I do to lead my mind away,
what should I do to stop my heart's wretched sway?
Because I am tired of being here for you,
I am tired of giving you my love so true.
I am tired of giving you my love so true,
I am tired of painting the skies so blue.
As you are already tearing the lever of my love,
and what is sad is that I watch, in the skies above.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
