Not knowing what my sin was,
Sixteen hours of hunger, pain,
Tears and consoling oneself,
Led me to talk to her first.
Her words were like,
The poisoned sword of Barbossa,
A wound that would soon heal,
I presume,
But all deep cuts leave a scar,
Scar that i will either conquer,
or surrender to.
I told my pains,
Showed my wounds,
But i was ignored, pushed afar,
I wasn't alone,
I had many with me,
But this stupid heart still cared,
For the one who made it bleed.
I want to mend it,
Took the blame,
When it wasn't mine,
Will the severed relationship ever be the same?
Can it be mended?
The cracks will still remain, for sure.
~SRUTHAKIRTI.M
Kidu !!!
ReplyDeleteWonderful!!!
ReplyDeleteNeed more like this !!!
ReplyDeleteIt's beautiful 🥺
ReplyDelete