(EN) A SHORT POEM : WHEN MIDNIGHT COMES
The poets surface from the filth
Sucking beauty out of the first bosom.
Such thugs have the most macabre taste
For all, birds and flowers, that perish
Away from the Unlimited world,
They would rather weep than tweet,
And live for a barren sky,
With hands full of stench,
Full of goodbyes,
Full of vultures and thistle sap.
SCRIBE
Short port, but yours have great mine to me,,, fell that yeah
#poetsunidet
Thank you, I very much appreciate that you choosed my poem. :)
short but filled with deep meanings :0 I love what you have done here ;) Thanks fro joining the community we are happy to have you with us.
Thank you so much Angel! I'm very happy you've enjoyed it. It's actually a very personal poem for one of my lost friends who was a great poet.
Oh I am sorry to hear that man... It is always hard to loose a true friend...
Thank you, it is...