spy4me
2012-07-01, 18:32
O lady of my heart, where you used to dwell
Should I keep suffering or should I tell
Things that gone and things that still trigger
Red fires, in me, how do I get weaker
Still wondering, even I know what love did
To poets, that darkness, through bad times indeed
Just why life could never do so
For me, to reveal secrets and to make me know
That nothing lasts forever, no people stay together
That thoughts of sunny days, so bad
That thoughts of dark nights, so sad
Tears on the cheeks , a very long stream
That life is never as good as it may seem
So hard to forget, so hard to let go
Someone who gave you so much to remember, so much to know
O lady, if you set me free you are wise
But freedom in prison, is death in disguise
What wisdom is that, when one word you say
Ending all that in a wink, and sending it away
What made your heart like rocks, so hard
Goodbye, goodbye, that word, is so hard
My poor heart, what pain you may bear
For life’s not just, for life’s unfair
.................
"a poet doesn't need always a motive to write while moments of joy, depression, or maybe just imagination might inspire his soul so that he sets his pen free and unleaches the words in everywhere to reach hungry hearts that seek for a she.lter and look for a cradle of hope even thru simple words" spy4me
Should I keep suffering or should I tell
Things that gone and things that still trigger
Red fires, in me, how do I get weaker
Still wondering, even I know what love did
To poets, that darkness, through bad times indeed
Just why life could never do so
For me, to reveal secrets and to make me know
That nothing lasts forever, no people stay together
That thoughts of sunny days, so bad
That thoughts of dark nights, so sad
Tears on the cheeks , a very long stream
That life is never as good as it may seem
So hard to forget, so hard to let go
Someone who gave you so much to remember, so much to know
O lady, if you set me free you are wise
But freedom in prison, is death in disguise
What wisdom is that, when one word you say
Ending all that in a wink, and sending it away
What made your heart like rocks, so hard
Goodbye, goodbye, that word, is so hard
My poor heart, what pain you may bear
For life’s not just, for life’s unfair
.................
"a poet doesn't need always a motive to write while moments of joy, depression, or maybe just imagination might inspire his soul so that he sets his pen free and unleaches the words in everywhere to reach hungry hearts that seek for a she.lter and look for a cradle of hope even thru simple words" spy4me