A curse was he,
Cared too much to be,
Just a friend
Or someone on whom I could depend.
Came with a gentle breeze,
It was Autumn but I freezed,
Grasp my fingers so hard,
That I became a bard.
Singing praises and writing phrases,
Went through the spring of different phases,
I was blind with the rain of glee,
Couldn't sense that he would flee.
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PoetryThe Search for happiness can only be find When you fight the ashen days and leave it behind Find the light thy need Take the strength to feed Your core with happiness And sadness beneath To hold your hand and breathe Life. Poems about self discov...
