Tears of blood,
From the sculpture's eye,
Running down its face,
In a painful reminder,
Of the suffering,
Of the past.
The pain of the sculptor,
Is the pain of the sculpture,
For they are one and the same,
Like two sides of a coin,
Or two halves of a heart.
The sculpture cries out its tears,
In a silent voice,
As it tells its story,
Of pain and suffering,
Of love and loss,
Of life and death.
YOU ARE READING
My Soul In Verse.
Poetry𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐈 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆, 𝑰𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔, 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑨...
