The sky looks great
When the sun is up
And the clouds are late
Spilling bright threads
Doing crochet patterns along the vast blue
Slowly, curling back into a ball of white
Swathing the sun
In rose gold silks

love is the thing she need
but the world  has it's own greed

her eyes say it all
every time a drop of tear falls
every pain she recalls


everyone say she writes poetries  very deep
but no one know  her tear is the ink ,
her pain is her inspiration to write
that's why she cry to make herself sleep

one day she'll bounce back
and give the answer of your all attack
till then wait for her comeback.