Rotten heart
As I stare at her smile
My emotions couldn't identify who she was
I lost my memories, who is she
As she graced me with her presence
She penterated my chest
My heart beat faster faster than light
I can't differentiate between hatred and love
I can't stand her tears, moreover
Want to distant my soul from her
I have died trying before
She scribbled this in her mind
Her mean smile could not say anything at all
Her orange color dazzling above the moon
I tried to quench it but it would
Gleam and ignite every spark in me
She covered my hard skin with her fine fur
Standing behind my shadow
Looking as if she were scared
Wanting to kill me there she gritted
Stretching my heart but boom
It shattered its throne beneath my life
The closer she came
the intense the pains become
The pale is broken
All the oil leaked away
About the Creator
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A Truth
You can't ask a star to shine bright Cuz it's not the light of its own It borrows in its own loan And return with the credit to the sun It's just like how my smile betray But I didn't credit it to me. It's the people around me Who led me to believe that there are smiles called fake. Which are existable. And they are times you don't feel anything But every day you, arise. Doing all that crap again, without complaining just like the worms in the morning Seeing their fate sooner or later in bird's It's just how it is. But you don't have to compare sparkles of one another to us. We don't share the same light Some are closer to the sun. Some are farther We aren't the same. So our are flaws and perfections Don't make my flaws insecure. I never knew I have one. Until you pointed all those. I am again, not complaining. It's a request. And I credit this poem to you. For bringing my thoughts to my ink.
By Muhammad Saad Shabbir3 years ago in Poets
The Whiskered War
A domestic drama; rather, you're witnessing a millennium-old conflict over the fate of the entire planet (and possibly just a smA titanic struggle between wits and strength has been raging in the shadows for millennia: The Great Nibble vs. The Purrsecution. The cats, the furry fighters, the fascists of the feline world, occupy one corner. In the other, mice make up the squeaky squad, the small militia. The reward? Domination over the entire world (and possibly an especially tasty cheese wheel).
By Richard Weber3 days ago in Humor
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