Pensive lines, deep into the coldest of heart
Iced with bitterness keeps warmth apart
Incurable even to the touch of love
I write with my heart missing
Let every drop of my ink hiss sounds of pain
From the fountain that once bled out echoes
Of happiness, for the oceans have become arid
I search curiously from dawn to twilight
But get consumed by an immeasurable vacuum at dusk
A stream of tears rekindled in utter fear
I sit in solitude bantering words as they spoke to my ears
Like the buzzing of bees in a clover
My heart stays frozen, repeated tragedy hangover
They are cold, forced to embrace life's brute
Like a sinner's ceaseless miseries of overwhelming guilt
Life is no place for redemption
But a cold island for the cold hearted
©gomezy
G