I shall be telling this with a sigh.
Lately I come to real-eyes that
I am a selfish poet,
An awful poet
With no care for others
The type of poet that only see
His pain and sorrow,
And ignore all on the horizon
at least that what’s
Being painted on my sky
A poet that thinks and write
his stories only in black
Thinking that the silence belongs to him.
I’m sorry this site will not allow me
To interact with any posts or messages on this site. Sending love your way if this one reach you!!!!
With love always
Edmund black