Arrows of time
Gone past its line
Aiming at my feeble heart
Breaking barriers that stood in between
Killing the little hope that lived within.
But tall I stood
And mountains I spoke to
The broken notes I played
You listened to with pleasure
And from my eyes flowed fountains
you never saw.
So here, engraved on my palms
The sad story of a neverending book,
Tales I now tell like a psalm
And the road I walk is not as straight as it is,
But bent as a hook.
Thanks for reading.
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You've received an upvote from the Blockchain Poets account. Thank you for submitting your poem to our community!
A very sad and a bit melancholic poem, as the disappointments of life open wounds that cost us to heal, but as you rightly say you have to stand firm in any circumstance, thanks for sharing it ♥
A melancholic poem of feelings unraveled in an apocalypse of abstract feelings, almost palpable in the haze of pain.
Beautiful verses.
Thanks for sharing.
Good day