Apr 25, 2024, 9:52 PM

The Hurdle 

  Poetry » Love, Phylosophy
178 1 1

A young heart's world - in a cage,

trapped in a tower, till the morrows age.

It breathes its tears, it tastes its rage,

kept in soft skin, woven of sage.

 

A fragile soul, heard not calls,

lives in dreams, paints the walls. 

A longing grown in millions of years,

not to weep, but face the fears.

 

And so the heart embarks

on a journey that won't last.

A little moth, flying in oppose to fate,

the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.

 

Now it leans out the window,

but the window's way too high.

In the wish to reach and feel the sky,

there lives a risk that it might fall, 

                                     and in an instant die.

© Djani All rights reserved.

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